The Philosophy Club
by Hitokiri Hobbit
Summary: On a haphazard visit to a bar for "deviants," wealthy Catholic-school-girl Glinda sees a performance that will alter her life. Story is character-based, rather than world-based.
1. Deviance

**AN: First off, for any who have been reading my other story, "The Light's Gone Out," and might be concerned, I have not and will not quit working on that. I've been playing with a new scene-the writing style I use with that particular piece takes a lot of care, but rest assured I'll update as soon as I can.**

**On the more immediate subject of _this_ story-I want to say that it isn't typically within my range or style as an author to write a story of this sort, that deals with any conceivable sort of AU or for that matter _anything_ out of canon. This piece is actually the bastard child of a real-world experience and an inspired moment. I got a very clear image in my head and, well, had to write it-those of you who are writers will likely understand.^_^ So why not share, I guess?**

**That said, I hope it's not a complete blasphemous atrocity. Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated. They let me know where the hell I stand.^_^; So without further ado (about nothing or anything)... here:**

Chapter 1 – Deviance

The car door shut decisively, muting out the sounds of gossiping teenagers as they made their end-of-day mass exodus. Glinda's right hand immediately flipped open her phone, turning it on and dialing her voicemail, as her left deftly unbuttoned her Catholic school sweater.

"Charles, does Father own a watch?"

Her chauffer spared a glance over his shoulder as he battled with the outgoing traffic. "Miss Glinda, you bought him one for his last birthday."

"Then why should it be so difficult for him not to call me during the hours I'm in school?" She did not listen for his answer, nor did he offer one, as she lifted the cell to her ear.

Moments passed. The girl's expression remained as stone. However, she sighed as she put away her phone. "Something wrong, Miss Glinda?"

"Nothing at all. It's just as it always is." With a toss of her hair, she screwed her features into a farcical impression of her father. "'Darling, your mother and I will be out for a dinner party and will be home late. We've asked Ana-Marie to make your favorite. Good luck on your history exam tomorrow—be sure to study. We love you.'" She laughed. "Brilliant. He hasn't even remembered that I'm taking economics this term."

"Just as well—you've always hated history, as I recall." Charles smiled into the rearview mirror, and Glinda could not help a smirk in return.

"Nor economics, if you must know. I had thought the science of _money_ would be far more interesting. At least one good thing has come of it—I have the word of very well-paid educators that shopping is a sign of my patriotism."

"I'm certain you could singlehandedly stop the waning of our economy, if given free reign."

"Undoubtedly," Glinda replied, turning her attention toward the silently passing scenery. Her bored tone indicated to Charles that she no longer wished to converse, and he honored her wishes.

As the car circled to a stop, Charles promptly let himself out to hold the door for Glinda. As she stepped from the vehicle, she rose onto her toes to kiss his cheek with a smile. "You're a good man, Charles Brown."

The chauffer sighed. "I never will forgive your father for taking you to that damnable show." Yet his eyes smiled back at her.

The girl laughed. "You'll see. Someday I'll play Sally Brown on Broadway, and then you'll take it all back."

Glinda breezed through the foyer with a graceful stride. With some maneuvering through ornately furnished rooms and halls, she arrived in the family kitchen, designed specifically for such an occasion as any family member wished to behave as average Americans and cook or otherwise provide their own food. It was spacious and designed with sort of look that hinted at the traditional yet flaunted its modern capabilities. Through a single swinging door lay the main kitchen, where servants might prepare food as required by family, guests, or themselves. It appeared as Glinda might have imagined a restaurant kitchen, all stainless steel and white tiled floor—it offered one the impression of perfect sterility, and Glinda avoided it.

She set down her bag on a counter and called for the mail to be brought. Sifting through envelopes, she set aside bills for her father's secretary, opening and reading invitations to one dinner party or another—occasionally a ball of some sort would occur to add variability to the atmosphere. Packages addressed to her mother she left alone—no predicting what sort of nonsense trinkets had been shipped from the shopping channel or obscure internet sites. She did not care.

"Ana-Marie," Glinda called, and a head popped through the swinging door. She set down the mail she'd been sorting so that she might address the woman directly. "What did he tell you to cook for tonight?"

"Why, fettuccini alfredo with mushrooms and extra garlic."

The girl turned back to her task. "Hold off on the garlic. Best to not overdo it."

"Yes, miss." Ana-Marie's head disappeared. The door flapped once or twice behind her.

A moment of silence passed, relished for its simplicity, despised for its void. The blonde tapped a fingernail against the countertop. The house phone rang with a biting clarity of sound. Glinda moved swiftly to retrieve it before any of the servants could.

"Arduenna residence," she answered with all the polite enthusiasm of an underpaid receptionist.

"Is this my lovely heiress to a nigh uncountable fortune?" a male voice filtered through the receiver.

Glinda shifted the phone onto her shoulder, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is this the jackass hotline?"

"Available twenty-four hours to serve you better."

"What do you want, Avery?"

"A pilgrimage, if you will, of a highly religious sort."

"Oh really? I suppose I'll need my fake ID?"

"And quite probably some cash, if you can manage it, my queen?"

"I can cover my own admittance at least. I don't know that I have change to spare."

"You hurt me deeply."

"Get on with it; I think the signal is growing fuzzy," Glinda said with a due inflection of irritated boredom.

"We're all going to the Philosophy Club."

Glinda's brow furrowed. "Oh that—what did Father call it?—hive for deviants."

"It's just a bar. Anyway, how would your dear old Popsicle ever know?"

"Your proposition—what is the right term? _Intrigues_ me?"

"Glinda…"

"No, no—_bores_ me. That is the term I was looking for."

"I'll pick you up at nine, and dress nicely. No one wants to be thought a slob by deviants."

"I'm hanging up on you."

"Ciao, babe!"

The phone receiver beeped as she disconnected. Glinda sighed and returned it to its cradle. She had barely turned when it rang a second time. The teenager snatched the phone, turned it on, and brought it to her ear in one swift motion.

"Avery, I said—"

"Glinda, darling, is everything all right?"

The girl hesitated, startled. "Mother. No, it's fine here. Why, has something happened?"

"Nothing at all, dear."

"Oh." Glinda was unaccustomed to being called at home by either of her parents.

"Your father and I are just so sorry that we can't be home with you tonight."

"No, I understand," she said a bit too hastily.

"Your father asked Ana-Marie to make your favorite—"

"Of course."

"—even though we won't be able to share it with you."

The girl laughed. "Well perhaps Charles can eat dinner with me in your stead."

"Darling, I'm not sure that would be entirely appropriate—"

"It was a joke, Mommie Dearest."

A beat interrupted, almost like an audible blink. "Dear, I don't think that's very—"

"Also, just a joke."

"Ah, I see. You kids."

"Indeed. Everything's funny, isn't it?"

Glinda chewed her lip in the silence.

"Well, as long as you're all right. You worry us sometimes, there all alone."

The girl nodded mutely before she remembered her mother could not see the gesture. "Of course, I'm fine."

"We must be going then. Get to bed early. You have that—what is it, a math test tomorrow?"

"No, Mom, I have no test tomorrow."

"Oh well, you need your rest. Good evening, darling."

Glinda heard the call disconnect and returned the phone once again to its resting place. Retrieving her bag from the counter, she trod upstairs to her bedroom. Setting her things down on the bed and stopping to open the window, she changed out of her school uniform to the tranquil sounds of birds in the trees just outside her room or an occasional passing car beyond the gated grounds.

With a glance in the mirror, tilting her head in the angle of light, Glinda unfastened her bra and dropped her undergarments at her feet, stepping over them. Draping a robe across her shoulders, she entered her bathroom and began running hot water into the Jacuzzi tub, allowing the current to spill over her palm until it reached her preferred temperature. She prepared salts and bubbles as it filled. Lighting a candle—she tested new scents periodically, whimsically selecting Cherry Blossom, and always used a wooden match—she turned last to her selection of music, browsing through CDs with an air of one possessing infinite time at a philosophical crossroad. She settled upon her 1982 motion picture soundtrack of _Annie_, her childhood love for musical films lending to her relaxation. With all done, she drew back her hair and allowed the robe to drop away, lowering herself into the heated water. Music soaked into her muscles as she felt them release, and Glinda sang.

With no one to hear through soundproofed walls, she sang.

OZ

Avery's Mustang convertible screeched to a brake before Glinda's door fifty minutes late. As was his custom, he forewent doorbell or cell phone in favor of laying on his horn to announce his arrival.

Glinda hastily descended the front steps and threw her purse irately into the front seat. "Very discreet," she snapped.

"So what?" He cranked his radio for show. "Your parents aren't home, princess."

"Our servants _are_. Any one of them could—"

"Snitch on you?" He laughed.

"So scary!" A thickly curled head leaned over Avery's shoulder and cackled.

Glinda plastered a tight smile. "Miss Phyllis."

The girl turned red. "Must you insist—!"

"Shut up, Philly." Avery pushed her back into her seat.

"Move _over_, Shelley," she snapped, and Glinda shook her head at the absurdity. How Avery had maneuvered both girls into a backseat space scarcely big enough for one she neglected to ask. Then again, she thought, Philly's anorexia offered some allowance for such crowding. "You know, Avery wouldn't even let one of us ride _over_ here up front, because he didn't want to bother moving us to make room for you."

"Just be quiet, Philly," Shelley said, withdrawing as far as she could from the brunette in the limited space.

"Let's just go," Glinda said, slipping into the front seat and tossing her gold curls to observe their effect in the rearview mirror.

"So glad you decided to join us," Avery said playfully.

"Bite me." He obliged, and she slapped him across the arm with as much genuine strength as she could muster. He merely laughed.

The combination of wind and radio ruled out any possibility of conversation as Avery drove. He possessed a love, in addition, for showing off the capabilities of his engine primarily through the noise of it. Over the roar of the world, Glinda shouted, "You're an asshole!" Avery smiled, flashing his teeth. He had not heard her, and she suspected he did not care. In the wind and rush biting at her cheeks, Glinda laughed at all the foolishness she could imagine in the small universe.

Avery refused to park too near the bar—for fear of his car. As they walked through darkened streets, he gentlemanly draped an arm about Glinda, in protection against any potential harm. She shoved him away. Philly made a noise in her throat that clearly indicated disgust. Shelley, meanwhile, trailed closely behind Avery, in apparent terror.

The black door to the bar bore the words "The Philosophy Club" in neon-colored paint. In much larger letters along the building's wall a phrase had been scrawled—whether the work was graffiti or the club's own decoration Glinda could not tell. The words read: "The nature of man is not what he is born as, but what he is born for." She stopped to contemplate the spectacle. Before her mind could move on to their intended purpose, Avery was pulling her inside by an arm.

Inside, they met immediately with a man—or possibly a woman—who had a foot in height and likely a hundred pounds on Glinda. Without a blink, the teenager handed over her expertly crafted fake ID. A glance at the counterfeit license, then a glance at Glinda, and she paid all four three-dollar admissions with a fifty as Avery, Shelley, and Phyllis handed over their own IDs. Philly alone found herself stuck with an under-21 wristband.

"It's pre-show music!" Avery shouted into Glinda's ear over the din.

"Show?"

"Yeah! Shelley knows someone performing. Should be interesting." He laughed, and Glinda furrowed a brow at him.

They seated themselves at the bar with a clear view of the small stage. A dozen feet of cement dance floor—soon to be standing space, when the performance began—filled the gap.

"Charming, isn't it?" Glinda said to Philly as she flagged the bartender.

"Oh stop." Philly wrinkled her nose at the blonde. "You're here with the rest of us, princess. And you're not fooling anyone with that damn superiority complex."

Glinda raised an eyebrow and ordered her drink, leaving Philly to the choice of water or Coke.

"What a bitch," Avery whispered into her ear as she swiveled her chair away from the bar.

"Aren't we all?" Glinda said, sipping conservatively as Avery downed his first beer.

"The philosophical type," he replied with a belch. "See, you do belong here after all." She rolled her eyes at him.

An hour into waiting, a petite drag king emerged onto the stage with a microphone. While scattered applause hailed his arrival, he was forced into tapping the mic and clearing his throat in an amplified fashion to command the silent attention of the bar on whole. "Thank you all for coming tonight." Despite his stature, the king might have passed for a young man, but his voice betrayed him. "Our troupe is called the Androgynous Animals—also known as the AA—for those of you who don't already know us. Only some of us are alcoholics."

A few cheers went up, presumably regulars.

"Thank you. And for those of you who don't know me, I'm Chaz Breaker." Whistles answered. The standing space had mostly filled. "And I'd like to start us off with a toast." Someone handed him a bottle, which he lifted.

"Here's to those we fuck the best.  
We fuck them best when they're undressed.  
We fuck 'em standing, sitting, or lying.  
If they had wings, we'd fuck 'em flying.  
And when they're dead and long forgotten,  
We'll dig their ass up and fuck 'em rotten."

Chaz took a swig of his bottle, accompanied by a collective tipping of glasses. Glinda did not drink.

"And now I'd like to introduce our first performer. The lovely, multitalented, the Queen of Broadway—_behind_ the theatres, that is." Laughter and applause. "Please welcome Miss Betty Bloop."

The first queen strutted out to the pulse of loud music and poor lighting. Before long, audience members of varying genders were offering up one-dollar-bills in their teeth. "Oh God—we're expected to tip these people?" Glinda wrinkled her nose. "They aren't going to start stripping, are they?"

"That would kind of defeat the point," Shelley said from two seats down. Avery ordered another beer.

A half dozen numbers in, Glinda was yawning and growing more inclined to become drunk herself. Chaz came back onstage encouraging applause as a king named Cain Griffith finished lip-syncing his Rammstein number. "It seems to me," Glinda said to Avery, "that community drag boils down to one thing. The queens think that if they're fat, it's sufficient merely to jiggle their man-boobs. The kings that that if _they're_ fat, the blubber will hide their real boobs."

"_Fat_ faggots," he grunted and shook his head.

No sooner has she spoken, however, than their host introduced the next number. "Our queens of the ancient world, that Dianic duo—"

"You bastard!" snapped a falsely high voice from offstage.

Another quickly chimed: "Diana is only the Roman derivative of Artemis!"

Chaz smiled innocently at the audience and shrugged. "Cressida and Thalia!"

Glinda recognized the opening of "Glitter and Be Gay." The pair who emerged certainly struck the impression of femininity. Bone skinny, with stiletto heels adding inches to their already notable stature—to one of a height with Glinda, at least—they moved with the grace and air of Hollywood divas in an age long passed. Their makeup and hair, while hardly tasteful, were expertly done, Glinda noticed with considerable surprise. And while possessing no apparent dance training, their energy and theatricality set them apart from the preceding performances.

"Hell yeah, bitches!" Avery leaped from his seat and bounded up to the stage to stuff singles into each padded bra.

"What a spectacle," Glinda sighed, though she would have conceded her relative respect for the two queens, had any the notion to inquire. "Enjoy yourself?" she asked Avery as he fell back into his bar chair—almost missing.

"Hey, if I didn't know any better, I'd hit it."

"I'm perfectly willing to place a wager on the 'knowing better' bit." Glinda raised her glass to her lips.

"You're such a bitch," Philly grumbled as audibly as she could. The blonde ignored her with a pleasurable ease.

"A regular Greek tragedy," Chaz quipped as he returned.

"Son of a bitch!" synchronized voices floated from backstage.

"And next up—"

"Galahad's gutter whore, I'm sure," Glinda said with a snort.

"Hot _and_ spicy," Avery giggled.

"—our local king of camouflage, a spectacle in his own right to exist. So welcome our Lord of Lorien—"

"You're a dumbass, Chaz!" Thalia and Cressida shouted.

"Ignore those ditsy bitches, they're a few too many Zimas to the wind. Please welcome to the stage, our very own Elf!" With a brief heralding bout of applause, Chaz cleared the stage.

"Oh shit, Linkin Park." Avery groaned. "Another emo dyke." More than a few glares sliced in his direction. Glinda rolled her eyes. Indeed, though, the king who stepped into the light with mic in hand gave them all more than a moment's pause.

Glinda raised her head for a clearer view, but the image did not change. "Who is he?" "_She_." Avery took a gulp of beer. "They're all faggots, remember." But the blonde had ceased listening even as she asked the question. All her senses focused in one direction.

"Elf" did not lip-sync his lyrics—the first of the performers to actually attempt any singing—and his voice was not mediocre. Glinda might have closed her eyes to listen, but she could not look away for fascination.

The bewitching creature was thin and angular, the cut of muscle clear in bare arms, and had successfully managed to hide any hint of breasts, his T-shirt tucked seamlessly into the waist of his half-tattered jeans. Shaggy black hair—blacker than Glinda had seen on a human being—teased ears and jaw line. But the spectacle Chaz had mentioned lay not in vocal ability nor trim physique—as surely as though the cheap electric lighting were purest sunlight, the king called Elf possessed skin as green as _sin_.

The audience members who had never seen him stared speechlessly, some wondering at possibilities of theatrical illusion.

His singing, despite Avery's initial reaction to the choice of music, left no impression of anger or aggravation. He sounded e_arnest_, his voice beautiful.

"'_Cause I've drawn regret  
From the truth  
Of a thousand lies._"

Glinda rose and did not notice confounded expressions from her friends. Stepping one foot in front of the other—there seemed to be no one in her way—she stood abruptly at the foot of the stage and, reaching up, offered her first tip. Elf's eyes met hers, brown and solid as earth. Their hands touched for only a moment before the contact was broken.


	2. Appearances

**AN: New chapter, hope it measures up. It kind of has a life of its own in many cases. Anyway, a few things to start off.**

**A note on drag etiquette. First off, use of pronouns when you have any sort of gender crossing is a pain in the ass. As it is a rule of thumb at the event of a drag show to refer to a person by whatever gender they are performing as, I went with that in this chapter. Such shall not always be so. I just want to prevent any confusion on the matter right off the bat.**

**Reviews have been and will be greatly appreciated. If you'd please leave one, I'd love you for it.^_^; I really want to hear honest responses-it's helpful, as any of you who write likely know.**

**Well, the show goes on.**

Chapter 2 – Appearances

"What the fuck was that?" Avery asked as Glinda returned.

"What?" She shrugged as though letting the notion drop from her shoulders. "Isn't that what you do at these things?"

Philly snorted. "I wouldn't pay money to that hideous—" Alas, her wit failed to conjure an appropriate insult in the heat of moment.

"But why this one?" Avery shrugged his bewilderment, spilling some beer in the process.

Glinda tossed her hair. "The singing." She reclaimed her seat, exuding a dignity that shut up even Philly for the time being.

The cycle of performers reset, all returning for second numbers accompanied by a second wave of tips. If Glinda had found watching them once exasperating, she thought less of their insistence upon a round two. She did consider tipping Thalia and Cressida upon their reappearance but instead doggedly kept to her seat. Elf did not perform again.

The hour stood well past midnight before the show met its end. Glinda rose quickly, prepared to leave, but Avery mistook her motion and grabbed her by both hands. "Let's dance, princess!"

He laughed as she wrenched her hands away. "Let's just go, please?"

Avery brushed past her and took hold of Philly. The two slipped over to the dance floor, Philly with a triumphant expression angled in Glinda's direction. Meanwhile, Shelley had disappeared to chase down an acquaintance. With a frustrated sigh, Glinda removed herself to the far end of the bar, putting at least a slight distance between her eardrums and the deafening music. Before she could sit however, she felt a brush at her shoulder, causing her to jump as she spun.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Glinda found herself looking into brown eyes that she had only seen once—still they held a sense of odd familiarity. She shifted uncomfortably. "Well? What do you want?"

Elf blinked but took no apparent offense at her brusque tone. "I just… I don't think you meant to give me this. I thought you ought to have it back."

Green fingers offered Glinda a folded twenty. The blonde felt a twinge of surprise. In her moment of captivation, she had not looked to inspect what bill she'd drawn from her purse. But she raised her chin with an air of certain dignity. "I gave it to you, didn't I? Is it customary for you people to return your tips?"

"It's hardly customary for audience to offer tips of this sort." A beat—and Elf finally lowered his hand. "Will you at least let me buy you a drink as a return gesture?"

A moment of confusion turned Glinda's entrails. Her desire to accept battled with horror at being seen with such a creature. Yet a glance in her friends' direction indicated that their minds were far from her current activities. "All right," she said softly. Elf drew out a chair for her at the bar, and she took it with an awkward blush, hoping that the lighting hid the involuntary reaction. The strangeness of the situation made her unsure of herself.

Elf allowed her to order and paid, tipping the bartender well, she noticed. A moment of silence passed between them as they were served and left alone. Glinda felt an unprecedented urge to fidget, which she fought and sought distraction.

"Why Elf?" she asked. "I mean, I suppose all of you… performers choose your own stage names."

"I'd've thought the answer obvious." Glinda did not want to ask about his skin, but he did not allow the silence to continue long in any case. "It doesn't matter—most people call me Elf, on or off the stage."

"And they call you 'he'?" The girl surprised herself. While she was not inclined to tact, her forwardness with the stranger moved beyond levels of propriety.

"Sometimes. It's customary, during a show. I have no particular preference."

"Oh."

"I haven't asked your name."

Glinda took a sip of her drink, nervous and for some unknowable reason hesitant. "Glinda Arduenna."

"It's beautiful—and bold. It suits you."

The blonde felt another blush and glanced away. "No last name for you?"

"Not on the stage."

"Most of the other kings and queens created full names. Excepting only those two—"

"Thalia and Cressida." Elf smiled. "They have a flash of the theatrical not many around here are blessed with. And they appreciate the classical aspect. Anyway, they serve each other as last names. Neither ever performs alone."

Glinda nodded. "They were quite good." The ease of the conversation calmed her somewhat. Yet she still felt the press of the association's inappropriateness, and the odd effect of her odd companion upon her would not allow for her relaxation. "Those words…"—Glinda cleared her throat, as though in effort to clear her mind—"the ones painted on the building…"

"Aristotle." The blonde looked up, startled. Elf nodded for her to continue.

"I just meant… do you believe them?"

The king smiled, flashing pearly teeth that shone brightly against his skin tone. "Everybody here does. Of course. Don't you?"

She hesitated. "I don't know.

A moment passed uninterrupted. Elf took a drink before turning to directly face Glinda. "I wonder if—" Then, as though conjured belatedly by the passing mention of their names, two wiry forms surrounded the king on either side, a whirlwind of perfume and chatter.

"My, the recluse has found a friend!" Thalia reached over Elf's shoulder to share his drink.

"My lady, enchanté," Cressida giggled.

"And what a beauty!"

"Too good for this slob."

"Oh, I don't know—they look adorable together."

"Beauty and the Beast."

"True love is blind."

Both queens turned to address the object of their teasing banter. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" they asked in unison.

A few drag performers and stomach flips beyond overwhelmed, Glinda leapt from her seat. "Actually, I really must be going. It was pleasant to meet all of you."

"We perform every week, darling!" Thalia's voice floated after her.

She hurried over to the dance floor and took Avery firmly by the arm. "Can we _go_?"

"Now?"

Glinda ignored Philly's seething glare at the interruption. "Please?" He hesitated, head falling to the side in something like consideration. Meanwhile, Shelley had taken notice of the scene and moved to join them. In the end Avery shrugged loosely. He slung an arm about Glinda, and for once she did not resist as he led her toward the door. Stealing a glance in Elf's direction, she found him still as she had left him, staring at her in her departure. Cressida and Thalia lingered also but had returned their attention to each other.

"I think your boyfriend's jealous," Avery said softly into her ear with a laugh.

"Shut up!" Glinda broke away and slipped out the door first, feeling a sense of clarity as she was struck with the cold night air. "Give me your keys—I'm driving."

"No fucking way."

"Avery, you're drunk," Shelley said.

Grudgingly he obliged, though Glinda suspected out of concern for his Mustang over worry for their lives.

"Hey, did you check out Princess Glinda's king of green?" Avery said loudly, slurring and swaggering as he kept close at her heels.

"I would hardly say _mine_." She did not look back at him.

"You tipped the freak."

"And you tipped those drama queens. So the fuck what?"

Shelley had tensed at the turn of conversation. She maneuvered Philly between herself and her bickering companions.

"I was drunk." He belched as though to prove his point. "Besides, you were the one getting sweet at the bar."

Glinda started. She had not realized that she'd been noticed. "I was offered a drink, and you were pissing all over the dance floor." She knew her tone was too defensive. The argument had lapsed into dangerous territory. Socially, she was keenly aware that visiting the bar with Avery's accompaniment meant something entirely different than her choice to accept Elf's offer. Yet Avery, drunken too silly to rise out of his apathy beyond simple teasing, shrugged and slumped against Philly, who nearly buckled under his weight.

"What was that shit anyway, some kinda theatre makeup?"

"No." Glinda shook her head, deep in contemplation. "I can spot a good makeup job miles away. There was none on that… thing."

With a lurch, the teenage boy regained his own two feet and let out a guffaw that morphed itself into a belch. "No kidding. Hey, I wonder if whatsis is your new type now." Giggling, the young man again allowed himself to be supported with some difficulty by Shelley and Philly.

"Don't be absurd." Glinda bit her lip, worrying it slightly. She was glad the main focus of her friends' attention rested with Avery's debilitated state. "Accepting a drink offered is just… What do you take me for? I would sooner consider _you_"—Avery burst out laughing—"than—"

"Start the car, and let's go home," Shelley intervened. As Glinda unlocked the vehicle and lowered the top, the other girls dropped Avery into the passenger seat and climbed over him. With no desire for further conversation of any kind, Glinda turned up the radio even past Avery's preferred blast of volume. She would have liked nothing better than to find herself instantly in her own bedroom and to sleep until the fabled Second Coming.

OZ

Glinda went through the following day half in a daze and the other half in a psychological hangover. Given that her consumption of alcohol at the club had been minimal, and she usually processed her alcohol well for a lightweight, she did not understand the reason or strength behind her physical reaction. By the end of third period, she had failed to take any notes of use. Typically a good student, she grew increasingly bothered. Glinda possessed enough apathy for twelve human beings her size without it extending into further areas of her life.

On her way to trigonometry, the blonde was accosted by a petite form with, in her opinion, far too much energy for such a sluggish day. "I can't _believe_ you all went _without_ me last night!"

"Hello, Mina," Glinda said dully, rubbing her forehead. Her tone did not, however, affect the speed or volume of the undesired conversation.

"Avery didn't even call me, and nobody else did the favor either." The girl huffed. Glinda sighed.

"There wouldn't have been room in the car, and anyway you didn't miss much." She did not want to say that perhaps Mina had in fact missed _too_ much.

"Well it wasn't fair," Mina spouted like a child. It occurred to Glinda that perhaps the other girl imagined she'd lost the opportunity for a sort of grand adventure. "I miss out on everything. When are you going back?"

Glinda was about to respond "_never_" but hesitated, long enough even to stimulate her own suspicion at her motives. But she did not put much thought to the matter, as she felt the issue might prove too much for her constitution on that particular day. "I don't know. Perhaps…"—she sighed—"maybe again next week…? You should ask Avery."

Mina pouted again. "He says it was boring and doesn't want to go back. But Shelley and Philly won't stop talking about it. He has to take us all again!"

Glinda sighed once more and furrowed and eyebrow. She wished more than anything else that Mina would simply go away. "I guess if he won't, you could ask Bobby."

The other girl wrinkled her nose. "Why would I want to go with _him_?"

"I think he sort of likes you."

Mina snorted. "As if he'd even look at another girl next to you."

Glinda winced at the truth of her friend's statement and immediately reconsidered her logic. "Perhaps it will have to be Avery after all."

"Make sure _you_ ask him. He'll listen to you." Glinda did not want to argue Mina's reasoning, nor however did she particularly want to bring up the idea of a return to the Philosophy Club for fear of his questioning her motivation—as she had seriously begun to wonder at the same and grown uncomfortable at the thought.

"I have to get to class, Mina," Glinda abruptly excused herself and hurried past the other girl. She did not slow until she reached her seat and collapsed into it with an exasperated exhalation.

"Wear you out last night?" Avery's voice over her shoulder made her jump. He giggled.

Glinda growled. "What a miserable day…"

"Nightmares of green fags?"

"Lay off it, Avery! He bought me a drink—"

"She."

"_She_ bought me a fucking drink. You know, it was nice to have someone else pay for a change."

"A dirt-poor dyke. Probably won't be able to eat all week just because of paying for you."

"I tipped, didn't I? It was his choice."

"Hers."

"For Christ's sake!" Glinda had not noticed the rise in her voice until the class hushed. The teacher regarded her silently, and her cheeks burned. As the period officially began, she opened her book and tried to take notes diligently.

"You know, I think you liked it," Avery whispered into her ear, leaning so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck.

"The drink?"

"The dyke."

"Fuck off, Avery."

"Gladly. Want to help?"

Glinda slammed her book and rose. "If you'll excuse me," she said before their disapproving teacher could speak, "I'm feeling rather ill. Might I go to the nurse?" Glinda suspected her leave was permitted merely to prevent any further disturbances.

Shutting herself up in a ladies' restroom, Glinda released a poorly muffled scream. With such a loss of composure distinctly out of character, she did not know how to deal with herself.

In the momentary lapse, she did fondly recall Elf and her fleeting moments in his company. As she caught herself, though, her stomach gave a lurch. "You're tired, and you're overwhelmed, and you might be hung over," she told herself and felt dizzy all of a sudden.

Plagued with a genuine headache and nausea, Glinda made her visit to the nurse and requested to be sent home for the day. She did not speak to Charles all the ride back, and when she arrived she changed into her pajamas with speed unprecedented and collapsed into bed.

Sleep came easily but did her no good—she dreamed of a beautiful tenor voice and eyes the color of smooth dark chocolate.

OZ

When her cell phone rang, Glinda could have cried. She did not move from her deeply nested state in the mess of sheets and her feather-filled comforter. But ring after ring, the noise would not stop, and she was forced to actively intervene.

Mina's voice filtered through, and the blonde almost hung up instantly.

"Did you talk to him?"

Glinda very nearly snapped "_yes_" but restrained herself. "I'm sorry, Mina, the subject didn't come up. Listen, can I call you back? I'm really not well…"

Ignoring her, Mina groaned. "He doesn't want to go back. You all have _all _the fun without me!"

"You're being silly," Glinda sighed.

"Maybe if I talk to Philly?"

"Yes," the blonde said quickly, exasperatedly. "You do that."

"But he _never_ pays attention to what she wants."

"He will if she annoys him enough. Can I talk to you later?"

"Are you all right, Glinda? You don't sound too good."

"No, I think I'm not." Glinda rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Good luck with Avery."

"Where were you in econ, anyway?"

"Goodbye, Mina." Rude or not, Glinda terminated the phone call with a swift flip and buried her head once more in her pillows.

OZ

Glinda woke feeling refreshed and herself. With renewed confidence, she strode through the morning with dignity and composure. Before the first period bell rang, Avery intercepted her in the hallway. Glinda, however, felt perfectly prepared for him.

"What did you girls tell Mina about that stupid bar? She won't shut the hell up about it."

"I didn't tell her anything," Glinda said with a roll of her eyes. "She came to _me_ lamenting about getting left out of our brilliant adventures. Anyway, it was your idea to go gallivanting off to the 'stupid bar.'"

"Well it was a stupid waste of time." He huffed, and Glinda shook her head at him.

"Well she won't leave you alone until we go back."

"I think it's an excellent idea," a voice chimed from behind as Philly sidled up. She gave Glinda a pointed look with a sort of personal glee, but the blonde shrugged it off.

Avery rolled his eyes. "I don't know what it is with you girls."

"You should have known better than to leave Mina out of the loop," Glinda said with a shrug. "She never lets things go."

"She'll let it go if I fuckin' tell her!" The young man crossed his arms across his chest.

Glinda laughed. "Go ahead and try. She'll wear you down eventually, so you might as well cave."

"I think we should totally go," Philly said again, moving closer to Avery until she had positioned herself between him and the blonde. Glinda could have laughed again.

"Go where?" a gentle chipper voice interrupted. The three turned to regard a baby-faced boy who, by all appearances, had no place in a high school of any sort. In fact he had skipped a grade, but the rest could be marked to unfortunate genetics.

"None of your business, _Baby_," Philly snorted. The young man turned red and was about to retort when Glinda intervened.

"Excuse us, _Bobby_,"—she flashed Philly a look—"but nowhere of importance. One of Avery's idiotic schemes."

"Leave me out of this," Avery said shortly.

"Be a man and finish what you began," Glinda teased.

"I'm confused," Bobby said. "Are you going, Glinda?"

"I've received no formal invitation." The blonde tossed her curls and glanced over at Avery, taking pleasure in his irritation.

"Fine, we'll all go. You too, runt, if you have balls enough."

Bobby straightened and puffed out his chest in some headstrong attempt to appear more masculine. "Go where?"

"To a place of demons and ghouls such as you've never seen," Glinda whispered playfully. Philly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her sweater. "Tell Mina," the blonde said over her shoulder as she turned to go. "She'll be thrilled."

OZ

The night of their second venture, Glinda's parents had returned home long enough to kiss her goodnight and prepare for an evening out. There was a pleasant futility to it all that the girl cherished and abhorred. In any case, she had warned Avery to exercise discretion. The precaution proved unnecessary but ultimately quieter, as he arrived, this time in a shining silver SUV that could seat their extended party. He rolled down his window as Glinda descended the front steps.

"I figured you'd be climbing out the window Buffy-style."

"You're so overdramatic," she said, rolling her eyes, but she was smiling.

Glinda could hear music filtering from inside the bar half a block away. Getting through the door proved more of an expedition than before. She feared for a moment that they might all be thrown out on account of Bobby, but they were saved by two unlikely heroines.

"Don't worry, dear, we can vouch for them." Cressida appeared over the doorman's shoulder. Thalia was only an instant in following.

"And might I say, that is a fabulous black T-shirt."

They were allowed entrance with some embarrassment for several involved parties and unadulterated amusement for others. Thalia instantly clung to Avery, to Philly's disgust and outrage. "Well, big boy, I remember you from last time. Eager, as I recall." Bobby was too baffled to stay to close by Glinda—probably the only time she'd be shed of him all night. In the distraction, Cressida stole up behind her.

"Ah, Elf's girl. I don't believe I caught your name last time, love."

"You have a decent memory." Glinda raised an eyebrow at the queen, who studied her with a keen interest and suggestive smirk. "I'm sure you all go through plenty of blondes around here."

"Actually I've never seen the poor boy talk to anyone. He tends to sing one number and keep to himself. Gorgeous voice, wouldn't you say? A shame he doesn't bring in more tips."

"Why doesn't he?" The honesty in Glinda's inquiry caused Cressida to regard her for a moment before shrugging.

"People are fickle and superficial that way, I suppose. Not like you, princess." Glinda started only slightly at the nickname. Yet she could not determine whether the queen was making fun of her. The duo excused themselves and disappeared backstage before she managed recover herself.

"Time to start in on that hangover," Avery grumbled as he passed Glinda. She restrained her urge to snigger at his disgruntled behavior.

They seated themselves at the bar, much as they had the previous week, Glinda flanked on this occasion by Avery and Bobby. Philly stuck close by Avery, even closer than Bobby to Glinda. Mina kept to Bobby's other side. Glinda ignored them all as graciously as she could manage.

Avery was four beers deep by the time the show began. Bobby had tried fairly futilely to make conversation with Glinda but was forced into reluctant silence as all attention was called to the stage. Chaz again served as their host. Glinda rolled her eyes at his jokes but did not find them as insufferable as she once had. She even deigned to drink at his toast:

"Here's to you, and here's to me.  
May we never disagree.  
But if we do,  
To hell with you,  
And here's to me."

She could drink to that.

Thalia and Cressida opened the show. Glinda pitied whoever would be forced to follow their act. The blonde waited patiently through performance after performance, all as painful as she recalled them. She might have worried, but Cressida's earlier comments had assured her that he would appear. The green figure who had haunted her for a week—she needed to know. He—she—had been, had meant something in that moment, and Glinda had gone through phases of denial and fascination. She had convinced herself of the silliness of the entire affair, and yet a force and question had tugged her back to the place that had so appalled her a week prior. Proud as she was, a time arrived when she found she must admit fact to at least herself. And she needed to know.

Elf could appear and mean nothing to her. A strange creature with exotic skin and an exceptional singing voice. Brown eyes were only brown. Glinda took a sip of her drink and shivered in anticipation.

"Are you all right, Glinda?" Bobby leaned over her, concerned. "Are you cold?"

The blonde held up a hand to wave off his worry. "I'm fine, Bobby." She might have said more, or she might not have—yet the possibility was interrupted as she heard a single syllable slip from Chaz's lips.

Glinda smiled involuntarily as music filled the momentary silence.


	3. Contact

**AN: Sorry this took so long. It's been done a week and a half-editing was the whole problem._ So my apologies, sincerely. The stories I could tell you about my busy, busy life, but really who wants to hear that?^_^;**

**Love to all reviewers. You help a lot. ****Readers, please don't be afraid to tell me what you think. Hearing the truth is the most useful thing to a writer.**

**All the stuff I wanted to mention has suddenly slipped my mind. So, er, here:**

Chapter 3 – Contact

The opening notes played with Glinda's senses, so that she was not sure she'd heard them accurately or imagined that perhaps she might have mistaken them. Elf emerged in peasant garb, and still she could have doubted. Yet as he began to sing, the blonde quite nearly laughed aloud in delight.

"_I guess I'd be a hero  
With sword and armor clashing,  
Looking semi-dashing,  
A shield within my grip._"

His eyes took only a moment to find her.

"What is this shit?" Avery grumbled and shifted sullenly.

Glinda released a sigh and might have laughed at him were her attention not thoroughly distracted. "One of your heroes, dumbass. It's from _Shrek_."

"Come again?"

Glinda shook her head. Her eyes never moved from the stage. "You're so behind on your Broadway."

"I don't give a fuck."

Bobby put a hand on Glinda's arm, instinctively protective, but the action was unnecessary. She did not move.

As a performer, Elf played to his audience well, naturally, but his eyes returned easily and often to Glinda and would find her every time watching steadily and smiling. He smiled back, his voice soft and easy and earnest.

"_We'd stand and stare.  
We'd speak of love.  
We'd feel the stars ascending.  
We'd share a kiss.  
I'd find my destiny.  
I'd have a hero's ending,  
A perfect happy ending._"

Glinda grinned, perhaps as a silly girl might at an idol. But her grin fell as her heart felt an impact in the lyrics—lyrics she had known before, as she well as knew the end of the story.

"_But not for me._"

No frown could last, however, as Cressida and Thalia appeared—in ogre ears and donkey ears respectively—to sing backup. An audible response rose from the crowd that caused Glinda to laugh. They sang rather badly—she suspected out of intention rather than lack of ability. But spirits of the viewers rose with the music and sheer enjoyment. As the three belted powerfully in harmony, applause and tips hailed them such as overwhelmed Glinda. She blinked at the stage, stunned, and felt her heart beat in apparent time with clapping hands. She joined and again smiled, even as the trio disappeared from the stage. And she felt oddly gratified.

"I suppose you enjoyed that," Avery said, looking pointedly at Glinda. She looked back at him just as steady—and with better psychological footing.

"I did. Quite a lot actually."

"_Actually_." He worked his jaw as if chewing the word.

"It was very entertaining, and after all how often do you get a good show?"

He snorted. "You call that _good_?"

Glinda shrugged. "Elf sings well at least, and they're all natural performers. You saw the audience."

Avery laughed, too loudly. "I wouldn't place much on _their_ opinions."

"You're such a jackass."

"Glinda…" Bobby whispered. He did not like when she would swear.

"Nevermind. It's just a show." She shrugged, and Avery ordered another drink. He seemed to relax somewhat, as the next performer took the stage.

Glinda appeared to the world perfectly calm, but her muscles trembled with tension. She felt nervous and elated and—not smothered so much as lifted by the pressure of her situation.

Bobby had grown uncomfortable and was showing signs of regret at having come at all. But his expression grew more determined as he inched his chair closer to Glinda's. She passively pretended not to notice. Avery had turned away from the show and was sullenly indulging in his drink. Glinda leaned closer and elbowed him. "Don't be a grump."

He rolled his eyes but turned to watch once more, a bit less irate than he'd been.

When Thalia and Cressida returned for their own reprise, Glinda stood to tip them before Bobby could manage to grab her arm in hindrance. She handed the folded bill to Thalia, who grinned at her broadly, flashing crooked teeth, before prancing away across the stage. They were in the middle of some sort of synchronized dance when Glinda once more reached her seat.

Avery leaned over near to her ear. "Can't we get out of here?"

She looked at him incredulously. "I wouldn't dream of it. They're darling."

"Them, maybe," he conceded. "But the others?"

"If you don't give Mina a full night—"

"I know, I know." He sat back in defeat. "You're in an awfully chipper mood," he mumbled. Glinda at first pretended not to hear him, but he continued to stare at her unblinkingly.

"What of it?" She shrugged awkwardly. He only stared still. "I suppose I should be sulking and drinking myself into a stupor. Someone has to be in a condition to drive when the night is through."

"Are you that glad to be here?"

Glinda avoided his eyes. "It's a change."

"For the worse, if you ask me." Meanwhile Cressida and Thalia had finished their number and taken their bow.

"Don't be a jackass," Glinda whispered as Chaz retook the stage.

"We've loved you all being here tonight," the king said, "but sadly this will be our final number."

"Thank God," Avery breathed. Glinda felt herself tense toward the edge of her seat.

The following six minutes were excruciating and over none too soon. The final queen exited with her tips.

Glinda did not stir for a moment.

Throwing a tip onto the bar, Avery stood and put a hand on Glinda's wrist. "Show's over. Let's get lost."

Ignoring him, Mina slid from her chair and offered a hand to Bobby. "Want to dance?" she giggled. Bobby opened his mouth and threw a hesitant glance toward Glinda.

The blonde rose gracefully. "If you'll excuse me, I must use the ladies' room."

Avery scowled. "Are you sure that's sanitary—or safe?"

Glinda raised an eyebrow before answering, "I think I can manage." She did not look over her shoulder and hoped that the sensation of Avery's eyes on her was only her imagination.

As the restroom door closed behind her, Glinda turned away from the pair of stalls and regarded herself in the mirror. Her silent reflection stared at her inquisitively. She felt herself on the verge of an argument with that accusatory gaze. "Who are you to judge me?" she asked, and her cheeks burned at her own foolishness. She turned at the sound of the door.

Elf stood with his hands loosely at his sides, shifting his weight nervously, subtly enough that she almost did not catch it. With swift, deft fingers, he took a small paper from his pocket and unfolded it in one hand, presenting it to her. "Thalia and Cressida found this in one of their tips."

Glinda stared at it for a moment before looking back up to meet his eyes, almost defiantly. A stubborn silence fell between them before she finally said, "Well?"

"Well what?"

The girl felt a blush and fought it to no avail. "You must have something to say."

Elf shrugged. "You asked me here. Do you?"

Glinda turned away, her innards twisting as she wrestled conflicting urges to flee and to stay. Elf took a step toward. Her periphery caught the motion of green in the mirror, and her eyes fluttered closed with a slow breath. His voice was soft.

"I've upset you."

"You've done nothing," Glinda sighed. "I shouldn't have come here."

"You did. Why?"

Glinda ignored the question and turned to face him. "Why did you sing that song?"

Elf hesitated for a beat. In the end, he whispered, "I thought… you might…"

"You knew I'd come back."

"I didn't know."

"Why that song?"

The king grinned. "_Shrek_ on Broadway—it seemed the right mix of high culture and pop culture." He laughed. Glinda could not help but smile as she shook her head.

"It's closing in January. Hardly the smash hit of our generation."

"But you know it. My assessment was right." He smiled. Glinda sensed a slight flush.

"And something of a character piece," she said quickly to fill the silence, only realizing the unkind implications of her comment too late. She immediately reddened with shame. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I'm not bothered." Elf shrugged casually. His tint of green had darkened, but he smiled at her sweetly. "I know you didn't mean—"

Glinda giggled. "So you're the King of All Broadway." The tilt of his head communicated his confusion. The blonde started. "Oh God—_The Producers_. You know your Aristotle but not your Brooks? What kind of a teenager are you?"

He shrugged again, eyes flitting toward his feet as he avoided her studying gaze. "Unique," he said.

A clamor of voices directly outside the door caused Glinda to tense. But before she could voice her fears or feel embarrassment at possessing them, Elf grabbed her and pushed her into the nearest stall. The blonde very nearly laughed aloud but kept her silence. Her heart raced at the thrill. And her arm tingled warmly where Elf had touched her.

As the door opened, Thalia gave a dramatic staged gasp. "_What_ are you doing in here, young man?"

"Highly inappropriate. But then he has good reason."

"You dog!"

"Where is she?" Cressida's eyes found Glinda's through the gap in the stall door. "Come on out, princess," she beckoned the blonde like a cat. Glinda slowly opened the door, and both queens squealed in delight.

"Enough, you two," Elf sighed, trying to motion them back the way they came.

"Not nearly."

Thalia drew close to Glinda, running a finger through her golden curls. "Ooh, the lovely."

"And still no proper introduction," Cressida said pointedly.

Elf took Thalia by the elbow and attempted to gently guide the queens out. "This is Glinda. I believe she already knows who you are. Now if you'll please—"

"Honestly, the ingrate!" Cressida mussed Elf's hair—to no overall effect.

"We've helped you out—"

"—twice—"

"—so we ought to reap some of the benefits."

Glinda burst into a fit of giggles. Her three companions regarded her quietly—a feat, from what she had observed, for Thalia and Cressida. But her glee and their silence proved short-lived.

The door slammed open a second time, and Glinda gasped as Avery's hand roughly took hold of her wrist. "We're going," he said sternly. "Say goodbye, and fuck you all very much."

As he stepped toward the door, blonde in tow, Elf quietly moved to block his path.

"Avery, stop," Glinda whispered, tugging against his grip. Tears pressed at her eyes. She wished many things in that moment, none compatible with her reality. Glinda noticed for the first time Philly standing in the door, gaping at the scene. She must have followed Avery in, unnoticed in the upheaval of confrontation.

"Get out of my way."

"Let her go first," Elf said.

"Move. We're going." Glinda tensed. Avery's tone outstripped the force of his grasp, and it frightened her.

_Please,_ she thought, _we'll go—just don't—_

"She can make her decision herself," the king said steadily. His voice never rose. In an instant, Glinda found herself free, and a crack of fist against flesh resounded from the close walls.

Glinda shrieked. Philly, meanwhile, had fled, and Elf fell under the force of the blow. Glinda tried to rush to his side, but he was up in a flash. "Avery, don't!" the blonde cried. She found herself staring suddenly at the back of Elf's neck, her vision barely clearing his shoulders, as the king had positioned himself between Avery and Glinda. He was close enough for her to smell him, her breath wafting at the ends of his raven hair. She felt a stab of fear and wanted to reach for him, but without warning both figures were a blur of motion, and the sounds of blows were audible even over her screaming. The blonde felt hands at both of her arms. Cressida and Thalia drew her away from the violence, as well as the space would allow.

_Let me go_, she wanted to scream, thought that she had—but she stood speechless. She winced every time either combatant struck the other. And she cried at the sight of dark blood against green skin.

With a wrench that hurt her shoulder sockets, Glinda freed herself and rushed into the fray. Between Elf and Avery, the girl flinched under a blow descending toward her head, but no pain followed. She opened her eyes to blink at Avery's fist, still hovering above her. She stood between the hit and its intended target. Elf was so close at her back that she could feel the warmth of his form, separated from her by barely an inch of air.

Glinda reached up to take Avery's clenched fist in both of her hands. "Please, don't," she whispered. "Just stop, and we'll go. Please." She felt Elf's rapid breath above her ear and repressed sobs. Tears stained her pale cheeks.

Avery's hand opened and took hold of hers gently. She turned to catch Elf's gaze again as she felt herself being drawn away. He looked as if he would protest, but her eyes pleaded for his silence. With a soft tug, she was pulled out of the room, and the door closed behind her.

They walked directly past a confused Bobby and a hyperventilating Philly. Shelly and Mina fell in line, neglecting to ask questions after one look at Avery's face. Physically he suffered from a busted lip and an already darkening splotch of purple across his left cheekbone. And then—had his nose always tilted at such an angle, or could the light have…? But his expression expelled all comment or query.

"Glinda, what's happened?" Bobby whispered as they walked swiftly for the exit. "Are you all right?"

"No, Bobby," she hissed as the shock of night air hit her, making her tremble. "Leave it be."

Whatever number of drinks Avery had downed, he did not so much as swerve as he drove. His anger lent him focus. They endured absolute silence but for the hum of the engine and drag of wind. Avery had rejected even the radio's interjection. Glinda could not look at him—or anyone. She would not think of Elf, the song, the fight. She stared out the window at the dark and tried to imagine the world as nothing more.

She departed into the same silence and darkness. Avery watched her to the door before he drove away.

Glinda collapsed into bed without changing and slept without dreams, so far as she could remember.

**AN2: For those of you who are curious about the song-"Who I'd Be" is the finale of Act I of _Shrek the Musical_. Here's a cam for anybody who wants to check it out. I do recommend getting the soundtrack.**

**www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=sZWGsOJhBs4**

**The show is actually closing on Broadway, but it will tour-anyone who has a chance to go see it definitely should try.**

**Well, that's that. Just thought I'd throw it out there.^_^**


	4. Gravity

**AN: Holy shit! That took forever... and frankly I'm ashamed. Truth-it was all the last scene. The rest was done within a cpl weeks after the last chapter, and then that last scene-along with my inescapably hectic life-gave me hell. Consider this my formal apology._**

**So you'll all notice I made a certain decision in this chapter. The water allergy was a thought I struggled with a while-figuring on whether I wanted to do it. Well, I decided not to. **

**Thank you, thank you-to all people who have waited for this most recent chapter. Again, sorry and shame for taking so long... I hope you won't punish me by not reviewing.^_^; Feedback is really so helpful. Will they speed up my posts? I can't guarantee-sadly. But they do encourage me, knowing that people are responding in any way. **

**Enough of my bullshit. New chapter! *falls asleep***

Chapter 4 – Gravity

Avery had returned to a chipper disposition by morning. Silly as ever, he laughed off inquiries as to the origin of his swollen lip and bruises. He made no comment on Glinda's somber mood, offered no consideration nor made mockery of her case as he had the week previous—in no way openly acknowledging her feelings on the subject. He did treat her with a sort of tenderness—as one carefully handling an explosive device. However Glinda had no will to combust. The night had ended badly, as had any expectations attached to it. She was recovering and acceptant. Avery's response did him credit.

Bobby proved unsatisfied. During their lunch period, he drew Glinda aside and spoke in hushed tones. "I'm very sorry, Glinda, but you understand my concern. I hope you don't mind my asking what happened last night."

"Actually," Glinda answered, not curtly but firmly, "I do mind."

"But—"

"You needn't worry about it," she sighed. "It happened, and it's over. We won't be going back."

Shelley and Mina were withdrawn and skittish, as though in a state of shock. Philly restrained herself to glaring at the blonde from safe distances. She once attempted a pointed approach, but Avery headed her off with his overpoweringly good-natured charm. Glinda slipped away in the distraction.

What she had felt at the club with Elf—even in the company of Thalia and Cressida—she did not dare consider. She had been foolish to go. Whatever had passed between them, from start to bloody end, had been impossible. Souls could not pass out of their own circles of Hell.

Glinda and Elf dwelt in very different circles.

Foolish. She might have laughed but did not feel inclined.

OZ

As two weeks passed, Glinda's world had returned to balance. The novelty of the experience seemed to have worn off, as her friends had recovered their natural dispositions and no longer avoided eyes or conversation. Avery's injuries had healed—until no trace of the incident remained.

No one mentioned the club again.

For a spell, Philly had even become civil with Glinda. Whether out of sympathy or mortification, or perhaps merely stunned by the incident, she had grown almost friendly. The blonde understood that her world had healed when the other girl finally resumed her typically nasty disposition.

Life had let go of its traumas.

Glinda remembered.

The girl did nothing so dramatic as cry in her sleep or write letters never to be sent. She resigned the experience as one to be left for dead. Yet she carried a solemnity that could not be easily rinsed by acceptance or a mere fortnight's time.

In the end, Avery was the first to broach the subject. He took her aside before their final class and appeared to be in no hurry, tardiness be damned. Glinda showed no impatience or irritation with him, even as he scratched at his hair and wonderingly gazed at anything but her. Passing students did not appear to notice their private conversation, nor did Avery make an effort to secure a more secluded location.

"I've been meaning to…" he finally ventured but did not commit to his chosen path.

Glinda smirked. "I rarely see you so at a loss for words."

"Shit, woman," he sighed, exasperated, but seemed to relax. "I just meant that place… And of course that… y'know, the green one." The girl shrugged, inquisitively but noncommittally. Avery sighed again. "There was something there, wasn't there? I'm not _quite_ as stupid as I make out to be."

Glinda glanced away. "'Was' being the key variable in this equation."

"You just haven't said anything since. About it, anyway."

The girl lifted her chin and drew a breath. "I think little is left to say. Why not drop it?"

Avery snorted. "Drop it." He shook his head. "It wasn't like you. Why, Glinda?"

She avoided his eyes. "What are you really asking me?"

He contemplated her for a moment. "Yeah well, you always did have a flare toward the exotic. I guess I should have expected—"

"You were the one who took us to that damn club in the first place," Glinda hissed. "What for?"

The young man snarled, but he fidgeted like an embarrassed child. "Just for kicks. I didn't know—"

"It doesn't matter." She shrugged and smiled. "Does it?"

Avery frowned and shuffled his feet. "You worried me."

"Well"—Glinda rolled her eyes—"_apologies_." He laughed.

"Don't be a bitch. I'm serious."

"As always." A silence fell between them. The hallways had emptied. "So did you get a kick out of it?"

"Oh, a few," he said sarcastically, rubbing at his ribs. Glinda laughed.

"I'll say. Quite an asskicking by a girl."

"Hey, I would've won. You had to go and be a damsel."

The blonde grinned. "She held her own."

Avery studied the blonde for a beat. "_She_?" Glinda shrugged. He continued to stare at her but proved the first to bend. "That fucking place," he laughed, shaking his head.

"It was a vacuum."

"What?"

Glinda blushed and tried to sound casual about the matter. "In a void, the vacuum inevitably sucks you in."

"It _sucked_ all right."

She sighed. "You didn't have to—"

"Save you from the ogre?" he joked.

"Be such a jerk," she finished quietly.

A range of emotions flashed across Avery's face. For a moment, he looked genuinely ashamed. Then followed anger. The convoluted mess that trailed these initial two Glinda hardly dared to interpret. However, she felt sorry for him. And, taking his hands in hers, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"I can take care of myself," she whispered.

Avery grinned and swaggered. "Forget it. A princess needs a knight."

"Too bad you're just a jester."

As a show, he attempted a back handspring. When he crashed onto his shoulders, Glinda gasped and rushed to his side. He burst into a fit of giggles, which the girl could not help join. "Well… if I don't break my neck first," he sighed, "all squires one day become knights."

"You'll become a CEO first, I think," Glinda said. "Dad's boy, become a man." Avery scowled. Standing, he brushed himself off and offered a hand to Glinda. She stood without his help.

"To class," he said with a stiff shrug. "The diligent offspring." He paused and caught her eye one more time. "It's done now at least. Isn't it?"

Glinda bit her lip. "Isn't it." The finality of her town satisfied him, and, brushing her hand with his own, he turned and left her alone.

In an odd way, their conversation settled Glinda's mind somewhat about the event. It did not, however, lift her spirits. Her acceptance of reality had broken into stale resignation, and the high she'd felt momentarily at the club had dropped her hard back into life—although she imagined her existence stretched the term. She smiled as she thought that Cressida and Thalia knew _life_. Elf had perhaps not yet reached it quite—but had been groping for a handhold with bold earnestness. At the very least, he—she—had known honesty. Glinda knew only tedium.

As she let herself into the car that afternoon, she sat back and turned immediately toward the window.

"Quiet again, Miss Glinda?" Charles asked from the driver's seat, causing the girl to start. She smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

"It's nothing."

He smiled at her gesture but pressed, "Nothing? You have me worried."

Glinda felt a flash of guilt but nonetheless smiled sweetly. "Nothing that won't pass."

OZ

Glinda picked up the phone and brought it easily to her ear, without glancing up from her textbook. "Hello, how may I help you?" she asked with cheerful dismissiveness. Her mood had improved over the past several days.

"Is this Glinda?" a voice floated through the receiver. A quality in it caused Glinda to look up and to pause. Her breath caught in her chest. And the voice said, "It's Elf. From the Philosophy Club."

"How did you get this number?" the girl asked batedly.

Elf sounded amused. "Arduenna, right? There aren't too many in the phone book."

The feelings that had faded at an agonizing crawl for weeks flared in a charged instant. Glinda could feel her pulse pound behind her ears as her thoughts ran wild. Finally, she asked, "What do you want?"

Elf cleared his throat awkwardly at her clipped tone. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right first of all."

"I'm all right," she answered brusquely. She felt herself caught as a creature in strobe lights, and she bucked as though to free herself—even unsure that she wished to.

A beat passed before the king continued, "Things didn't exactly end well the last time—" Glinda could not help a staccatoed laugh. Afterward, she breathed. She felt a tautness in her shoulders loosen and a renewed willingness to listen. More slowly than her confusion, she sensed creeping in a tenderness she had combated and reasoned against. Elf's voice had softened. "What I meant to say is—"

"Why did you really call me?" Glinda asked.

Elf laughed nervously. "You're not one to mince."

Along with her confidence, she had regained her straightforwardness, and she could not stand for a roundabout approach—however shy or earnest. Or endearing.

"All right. Do you want to meet me?"

"Meet? Are we penpals?" she teased. A flutter in her stomach denoted her own nervousness.

Elf laughed. "No… What I mean is…" A pause followed, so that Glinda worried her words might have frightened him too strongly. But he continued on. "Sometime… without my friends or yours to intervene."

_No,_ Glinda's mind told her. _Definitely not._ Her life had returned to stasis. And if she only hung up the phone… "When?"

OZ

Glinda leaned forward over the seat's shoulder. "Charles, can you drop me off at the library? I have to research a paper."

"I had thought you preferred to do such searches online, Miss Glinda."

The girl sighed. "She wants text sources. And one needs a pass to use the school library, inconveniently enough. It shouldn't take more than a few hours. I'll call to be picked up."

"Of course, Miss Glinda."

She sat back in her seat with a smirk. "You're a good man, Charles Brown."

Glinda shouldered her bag and waved on her way out the door. Charles waited and watched her safely into her destination before departing. Checking the time on her phone, the girl lingered for a moment near the drama anthologies before briskly exiting the library altogether. Rounding a white-stoned corner, she glanced over her shoulder as though expecting a covert team of trackers to appear on her tail at any instant. When no alarm sounded, she slipped away into the lightly wooded solitude behind the library. Nature trails had been planned for the area, she'd heard, but nothing had yet been officially finalized. She found the stillness peaceful and basked for a moment in relative isolation.

A hand touched her shoulder, causing Glinda to jump. She spun on the intruder to find Elf two paces away, holding up both green hands as though wary of startling her again. She ought to have relaxed at seeing him but found the task more difficult than previously anticipated. A silence fell between them until Elf smiled, indicating the emblem on her sweater. "Catholic school? I wouldn't have pinned you."

Glinda blushed and removed the sweater, tucking it into her bag. "Don't you ever just say 'hello'?"

"Sorry. Are you always this jumpy?"

Grinding her teeth in frustration, the blonde brushed a lock of hair from her temple. "I'm known to be quite composed, actually."

"Figures." He—she—smiled somewhat dashingly.

Glinda shook her head violently, confusion and conflictions clouding her thoughts. "Can I ask you something? Now. Before… anything else."

Elf seemed somewhat nervous. "Of course."

"Which do you prefer?" She received only a befuddled look and struggled to clarify. "How do you… identify? Who _are_ you?"

Realization dawned into green features, and Elf nodded understanding. "Because you met me at the Philosophy Club. Of course. Tradition dictates that gender be referred to in terms of performance. I guess…" A shrug dismissed former tension. "I never quite reached that whole transgendered scene. I am what I am."

Glinda hesitated. "Female."

"Yes."

"Then… you prefer…"

Elf sighed and ran long fingers through messy raven hair. Glinda felt her heart skip. "I didn't lie about lacking particular preference. But if you're not comfortable…"

"Just answer me. One way or another."

"Then, yes. Female. I have no aversion to my sex like some."

The blonde hesitated then nodded. "All right then."

"Is that all?" Elf offered—her—hand. Glinda moved to take it but paused.

"Where are we going?" Her companion flashed a smile and held her gaze—daring her. Glinda felt the corners of her lips twinge. "Are you ever going to tell me your real name?" She slipped her hand into Elf's, and warm fingers closed around her own.

Glinda followed easily, content to be led. The thought almost caused her to stop cold. She held no delusions about her nature—she followed the whims of others. Yet when had she ever done so without some form or protest or derision?

Elf let go of her hand at the bank of a trickling stream. The trees opened up for a bit of sky to gaze down on them. A worn blanket had been laid out across the ground, and Glinda stood, contemplating the scene. Her green companion sat and turned back to her, noticing her still silence.

"What's this?" Glinda asked, furrowing her brow. Elf laughed.

"You don't recognize a picnic when you see one?"

Glinda hesitated in answering. How should she know? Her family had never picnicked. Elf did not seem to mind her lack of verbal response.

Slowly, carefully, Glinda sat, folding her knees and leaning against her palm. The cloth of the blanket was soft, and the foliage underneath pressed against her skin through the fabric. Glinda breathed in the scent of the stream. The trickle and the light wind played in her ears, peaceful.

"Can I ask you?" Elf looked at her intently. Glinda blushed under the attention and nodded. "Why did you come here?"

The blonde started, and her cheeks flushed anew. "Vacuum in a void," she whispered.

"What?" Her answer confounded, and she was not surprised—she found the experience confounding.

"The most powerful force," she attempted, confused beyond phrasing, "in space is the singular pull."

Elf blinked at her for a moment—then laughed. "You mean a singularity?"

Glinda, in turn, found herself stunned. "What?"

"A black hole—it catches everything in empty space." The blonde felt herself warm and nodded mutely. The green teenager smirked. "Better be careful though. Gravity that strong takes even light." Glinda felt her heart pound at Elf's intensity, but the king shrugged and smirked. The blonde felt a twinge of embarrassment at the strength of her reaction and tossed her hair to regain her sense of herself.

"Singularity," she tested the word on her tongue and laughed.

Removing a packet from a bookbag, Elf began to unwrap it. "What do you like on your sandwiches, Milady?"

Glinda started at the question. She laughed as Elf set out a loaf of bread and various sorts of food. _Picnic…_ she thought to herself. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, I don't know—surprise me."

"Adventurous sort." Glinda could not help agree, at the moment.

Despite sitting on a coarse blanket, with a breeze constantly attempting to blow strands of hair into her food, Glinda ate with the air of a lady. She did not bother to identify the flavors presented to her but resigned to the surreal nature of her experience, her sense of taste exploding along with all others. And she never took her eyes off Elf.

At a moment indiscernible in time, Elf became aware of her gaze and returned it oddly. "Problem, my pretty?" her companion asked. Glinda blushed and was about to open her mouth to comment on Elf's manner of address when the green teenager turned away, as though also embarrassed, and made her way to the streamside, crouching at its bank. A lithe form leaned over the trickling water and trailed fingertips through its silken flow. Raising the same hand, skin glistening, to shield her chocolate eyes, Elf looked into the sunlight. "The water's nice." The dark eyes turned to smile at Glinda. "Care for an adventure?"

The blonde blinked. "A what?"

Elf removed her shoes and stepped into the water. "You're an adventurer, right?" A verdant hand extended to the blonde. "Come on." The water soaked up to the knee of her jeans.

Hesitant, Glinda withdrew. "Since when are you such an extrovert? What happened to the shy boy at the club?"

With a grin, Elf fell back into the water, deep enough to submerge her form before she sat up and resurfaced. Rising, rivers ran from raven hair and highlighted the teenager's form. Again a flash of white teeth, and a hand extended to Glinda.

The blonde's heart raced. "I can't," she said.

"You can't stand? You can't walk forward? Are you made of sugar and afraid to melt?" A song-like laugh followed, and Glinda felt her panic well.

"No. I…" Rising quickly, she took a step back.

Everything in her urged her toward stream and green and adventure. It terrified her.

"I'm sorry," Elf said, with gravity. Stepping out of the water, she approached Glinda and reached for her arm. "I'm sorry…"

Glinda drew back. "If I get wet, I'll have to explain myself. Where I've been."

Elf drew her hand away and did not answer. Wet clothes clung to a lean form, for the first time revealing very small but very present breasts. Elf's entire physique appeared abruptly feminine, even without benefit of developed curves—the cut of the hips, the motion of pelvis to joint to thigh, none with any distinctly girlish quality but lacking in the masculinity that had seemed apparent in the king always before.

With a sharp inhalation, Glinda turned away. "I have to go." She marched swiftly up the hill, through trees, away from the trickling brook. She walked without glancing back, clasping her bag to herself. At the library doors, she finally turned—and saw no one following. Her cell phone flew out and pressed steadily to her ear.

With her heart still insistent beneath her breast, Glinda waited with shortened breath until she saw Charles pull close to the curb, and she fled into the car.


	5. Sinking

**AN: HOLY SHIT ANOTHER CHAPTER!**

**I could explain the numerous excuses for taking so goddamn long to deliver this... but that would likely bore you._ Suffice to explain only that my meager, pitiful writing time is divided between two fanfictions, a novel, a play, a musical, and (recently) a dramaturgical exercise. Sigh...**

**I short... sorry... *facepalm***

**Anyway, I should shut up so you can get to the NEW CHAPTER (omfg). Reviews are veryveryvery appreciated. It can be criticism, because feedback is highly helpful. I'm not above begging-please, please. ^_^;**

**PS - Just noticed that all my scene breaks _haven't shown up_ in my previous posts. Going back to fix it.**

Chapter 5 – Sinking

Glinda shut herself into her room and locked the door and all windows, as though to shut out even air. She buried her fingers in her hair and felt a desire to scream, urged herself to scream, but a weight that pressed at her chest would hardly allow her breath. When her cell phone rang, she paid it no attention—did not answer, did not so much as look to discover who might be attempting to interrupt her life in such a moment.

In her periphery, she saw green. Always, at the edge of her mind, Elf's presence. She closed her eyes against it. The sensation did not fade.

Glinda ran into the bathroom and shed her clothes all at once, crouching shivering and vulnerable as she filled the tub. She did not look through her soundtracks, only played the first one she touched. _The Music Man_ slipped into her ears, filled with lies and love and simplicity. Taking a deep breath, she submerged herself beneath the water.

The world floated. Around her, muffled sight and sound and everything, only the smooth water against her skin and the pressure in her chest. She might have stayed. She might have slept, buried in dulled senses. She did not hurt—only felt a monotone throb that might have been the ghostly imprint of pain long and thoroughly repressed. But as the water drowned the sounds of the world, in her head she heard music. Pure.

The music soothed her. Her eyelids fluttered, and her muscles relaxed. In moments she began to forget. Within her serenity, her mouth opened in a sigh, and she drew a slow breath.

The sharpness of the pain struck her with bold clarity—and immediacy. Glinda's eyes flew open, letting them burn in the products that served to so relax her body. Upward and into stinging light, body heaving in aching burst as she coughed jaggedly, spitting water as her throat pushed and closed on the soapy solvent in its quest for air. She tumbled to the tile floor in a heap, curling in a cold puddle as her body still spasmed to expel the intrusion to her lungs. The soundtrack music filtered thickly into her pounding ears as slowly she began to breathe. Gasping healing air—air that spread her throat and caressed her larynx, air that carried life and voice. She could not speak, but she breathed more and more slowly, more smoothly. With a release, her trembling muscles collapsed, and she lay motionless.

Reeling and spinning and still.

She breathed the irony of her life, and she sucked in the pain of it. Her throat cried for water, the very thing that had injured it. Picking herself up from the puddle she'd created, Glinda felt her muscles stretch into a more human posture. Without bothering to dry herself properly, she draped a thick robe across her shoulders and trudged into her bedroom, collapsing into the covers and ignoring the dampness of the pillow as her hair soaked it. She felt the pain of daylight through her eyelids and embraced it. Soon she was asleep.

OZ

Her alarm startled her so terribly, Glinda nearly tore the sheets in her violent thrash. Panting, the girl slowly calmed herself and reached with a trembling hand to silence the instrument. With no will to move, only a headache and a sickening sensation, Glinda sat motionless for two full minutes, blinking against the silence. Finally she collapsed back against her pillows.

After a time, relatively peaceful, in which the blonde began to regather her sense of quiet, a knock came at the door. Followed by a buzz. Sighing, Glinda tied her robe about herself and rose.

As she touched a button on the intercom, a concerned, inquiring sound filtered through. The maid's voice was mousy. "Miss Glinda. Are you all right? The time is already—"

"Tell Mother I'm not feeling well. I don't think I'll be able to attend school."

A hesitation followed. "Miss, your mother is not home at present." Glinda sighed, leaning her forehead on the wall next to the speaker. She wanted nothing better than to sleep. "Would you like me to contact her?"

"Please tell whoever it may concern."

"Shall I send anything up for you?"

"No. Just tell the staff that I wish not to be disturbed."

"Of course, Miss."

Glinda released the com and half-dragged herself back to her bed, covering her head with a pillow. Smothering the world. Beneath, she felt safe, fortified. Thus buried, sleep brought to her some relief. She did not dream but woke in a flush—well after noon. Glinda could feel the pink against her white skin, and she pressed a hand to her breast, tracking her heartbeat until it reached a normal pace. With a sigh, she was able to take her feet with a queer sense of calm. Arranging her robe and combing her hair, she descended from her solitude to see about some form of breakfast.

Ana-Marie jumped as Glinda pushed through the swinging door. "Pardon me, Miss. I was startled. Is there something I can—"

"Yes, anything will do." Glinda tapped her fingernail absently against the doorframe. "Something light."

"Of course, Miss."

The girl was already turning back toward the family kitchen. Pacing restlessly about the granite and hardwood, Glinda shortly called for the mail, desperate for distraction. When Ana-Marie brought her plate, she thanked the woman briefly and nodded toward the counter. She did not wish to sit at an empty table. As she stood, pecking at eggs with an unenthusiastic fork and skimming over return addresses, the telephone rang, and Glinda reached to lift it instinctively to her ear.

"Princess?"

The blonde froze, blinking for several moments of silence. "What do you want?"

"Are you all right?" Avery's voice betrayed concern, but his tenderness only increased her uncertainty. "You're like a saint when it comes to attendance. I figured if you weren't here…"

"I was feeling ill," Glinda said quickly.

"You sound all right now."

"Yes, it's mostly passed." The girl shifted, feeling an uncontainable nervousness trembling in her limbs.

"Well, I just wanted to—"

"Avery, it's sweet of you to call. But I think I'm feeling nauseous again. Goodbye." In her return to silence, Glinda leaned her head against the wall and did feel ill. Her emotions swam and dizzied her senses. Her breath fluttered, and her mind returned once again to the previous afternoon. The stream, the stillness, and Elf—glistening green skin, and dark eyes reassuring and challenging both at once. Glinda wanted nothing better than to reach out and take the hand extended to her. Yet…

Yet?

Her eyes snapped open. The girl's mental calendar quickly sifted days and time in her head. She prayed silently, yet she knew not what for. Her heart quickened in excitement and fear. Oh, she feared. And yet her momentum could not be denied.

Glinda ate her breakfast quickly, without tasting it, and still she felt hungry. Leaving her plate empty upon the counter—somebody would clear it away—she abandoned the mail and rushed back to her bedroom, closing the door firmly—with every intention of solitude but not of escape.

OZ

When Glinda swept through the foyer, a young doorman jumped in surprise and civility. "Miss, will you be going out?"

"Yes, I'll need a car," the girl said, infusing an air of confidence and authority.

"I'll call Charles right aw—"

"I'd prefer to drive myself."

The boy hesitated but nodded and turned to obey her wishes. "Yes, Miss."

The blonde did not often drive, but she had been taught with firm interest in her safety. She found her way with care. The Beemer drew several gawks as she parked—as did her figure as she walked, uncaring and unchaperoned. But the girl paid little mind, given its preoccupation. She took a breath and a prayer at the door.

Glinda tried her utmost to blend in the general atmosphere, but she was not of an air or appearance to go unnoticed in the sort of crowd the Philosophy Club attracted. Still her presence seemed to either awe or intimidate—she could not determine—and she was left unmolested. She saw no sign of either Thalia or Cressida, and for that fortune she was grateful. While appreciating the pair of queens more than she would have imagined, weeks ago, that she could, their attention on that particular evening was not the sort of raucous giveaway she would prefer. Insofar as she could manage, she kept to the shadows—not difficult within the lighting parameters, but she was aware of curious wandering eyes constantly. And took pains not to catch them.

When the music began for the first number, Glinda felt relief as the majority of attention shifted to the mic-bearer. Given her distance and the stage lights, she possessed no fear of being recognized by performers. For a moment, she felt invisible, and a thrill washed through her veins unlike she'd known—_freedom_. Freedom to do and be what she would, and no eyes observed or judged.

Glinda trembled in anticipation as Elf's name was finally presented. Time moved as if drowning—beyond pain, beyond breath, floating. Eternally blurred and muffled. Then, as quickly as a girl exploding upward back into air and life, surface tension broke and returned all to sharp focus.

"_I am what you want me to be,  
And I'm your worst fear—  
You'll find it in me._

_Come closer…  
Come closer…_"

Elf's eyes did not, could not find her. The blonde remained still. But brown eyes searched, and Glinda stared unblinkingly. Her ears drank, and she felt shudders of speakers and heart in time.

"_I am flame, and I am fire,  
I am destruction, decay, and desire.  
I'll hurt you…  
I'll heal you._"

Blank. Cold and heat and sweet, silky waves. Glinda felt her tresses and her clothing against her skin. She felt the tingling of electric charge in the hairs on her neck, the moisture of sweat and breath hanging in the air, the vibrations of music. All hypersensitive nerves, she could have breathed her soul through her teeth and watched it writhe in the air, all energy and agony and ecstasy. She bathed in pure sensation, and she could not make a sound. And Elf sang.

"_I'm the perfect stranger  
Who knows you too well._

_And I'm alive,  
I'm alive,  
I am so alive!_

_And I'll tell you the truth  
If you let me try._

_You're alive,  
I'm alive,  
And I'll show you why…_"

The surge of energy broke, and Glinda felt a wash of calm. As Elf sang out a tone that, in a male voice, should have reached into pure falsetto—yet the sound rang in full chest—Glinda understood clearly in that moment.

Moving forward, feet falling steadily on the floor, straight ahead, though she touched no one in the crowd, the girl stood at the foot of the stage.

"_If you try to deny me  
I'll never die—_"

Eyes held. Pink lips smiled, and the moment passed, impatient, into future.

OZ

Glinda pressed her back against the wall alongside the stage door. She felt herself an infant, newly born into the air and pain of a vast world unlike she could have envisioned. Her heart and mind were wild, bucking against the convention of her carefully sculpted existence. New to _life_ terrifying and terrific, she wanted to live it. She wanted to feel the fear and joy in tandem. She wanted to _feel_.

The smooth skin of gentle fingers enclosed her own, and Glinda grasped more tightly than perhaps was necessary. As she turned, Elf's face calmed the fear out of her. She felt only forward momentum. She could have stopped breathing and lost herself in dark chocolate eyes.

As Glinda tugged on Elf's hand, leading them—she knew not where—she felt the king's breath close at her ear behind her.

"You know Thalia and Cressida won't be pleased with me leaving in the middle of their act."

Glinda glanced back at the queens dragging all over the stage. Again, the stage lights shielded her from being witnessed. "They'll get over it."

Elf laughed and allowed herself to be led willing. "Your mail system has gotten more direct," she said over the din.

"Well I couldn't expect to sneak out if I gave it to _them_."

Out the side door, a wooden deck sported a handful of smokers gathered in the night air. Glinda started a diagonal across toward the gate, but Elf tugged back. The blonde turned, confused, as her companion released her hand. But when the green girl had jumped over the banister, Glinda blushed as Elf lifted her chivalrously over after. "Where to, milady?" the king asked, offering her hand. Glinda took it and squeezed with unladylike vigor.

"Anywhere. Away from here." The blonde tried to lead again, but again a tug back. Glinda found herself very near to Elf, looking up into eyes deep enough to drown her, and she felt a wave of heat rise through her body. She became aware, after a moment, of glances toward their direction from the deck, and with a giggle the girl drew her companion—barely disrupting their physical proximity—around the corner. "An adventure." With the thrill of escape, they rushed down the street, and Glinda said, breathless, "I know somewhere we shouldn't be bothered."

Elf laughed upon seeing Glinda's car. "Jesus Christ."

The blonde removed her keys from her purse. "You think he pays for this?"

"Fuck." The king seemed almost loathe to even touch the polished vehicle. But she folded into the passenger seat, gangly knees knifing up as the bucket seats rested practically on the car's cleanly carpeted floor.

Despite how seldomly she managed practice, Glinda drove as one trained exclusively in sports cars. Elf remained quiet in relative awe. Of the girl, of her lifestyle, of her mere presence—the situation in its entirety. And the girl looked steadily at the road, lost in chasing the path of her headlights.

As for Glinda, she did not know whether she was chasing or fleeing. Fleeing herself or pursuing a self she had newly glimpsed reflected in mirrors of chocolate. Escaping life as she had known it or seeking a life she had never tasted. But the engine hummed, and she felt its vibrations in her blood—and she drove faster.

The structure that loomed ahead when Glinda finally slowed was intimidating even in the dark. All about, carefully landscaped greenery and ornately paved drives. And the building itself—a beautiful feat of WASPy aristocratic architecture that screamed _money_ and _security_. Elf stiffened at the sight, but Glinda coolly disregarded any impending threat of silent alarms blaring to a waiting police station. She stepped from the car—did not bother to lock it—and swept toward the front door. An electronic key beeped as she wielded it, then she typed a code deftly into a number pad, and with a click the lock relented. The blonde let herself and her companion in without a second thought to their intrusion.

"Do you play golf?" Glinda asked casually.

Elf blinked, bewildered. "Never. Sometimes basketball."

"Well, they have some of the best courses around here. About eighty percent of all my father says to me is about how great the golfing is. He won't shut up about it." Elf shrugged, uncertain, as Glinda led deeper through the darkened building. "My mother"—the blonde indicated a wing to their right—"likes the spa. Either way, they pay dues and socialize, and this club might as well be their home."

A blast of night air hit them once more as Glinda pushed through a pair of glass doors. Before them, a pool the shape of a lily pond shimmered, surrounded by carefully placed potted plants in an attempt to offer it a tropical feel. Along a back wall, a bar was decorated with bamboo and tiki torches. Glinda walked around one end and began mixing a lime martini for herself. "Would you like something?"

Elf did not know how to respond—to anything. Finally with a shuffle of her feet, she steeled herself and asked, "Why did you come?" Glinda stared, silently, steadily. "Tonight, to the club?" A hesitation followed. "I didn't expect to see you again."

Glinda leaned on her elbows and scrutinized the green king. "You didn't expect me and sang that song?"

Elf smirked dashingly. "Well, I hoped."

The blonde laughed and came back around the bar. "What else do you hope?"

"That you won't leave."

With a toss of her curls, Glinda rose to the fun of the occasion. "Oh, you'd have a fine time if I abandoned you here. Of course I could probably find somewhere to lock you so that the rich geezers would find you right at the height of their old-fashioned fun—a common-class drag king right in the middle of their polished, refined—"

"Okay, that's enough. I _really_ hope you don't leave."

Glinda had drawn very close to Elf. "Now you look like the one who wants to run."

Elf breathed. "I'm frightened."

"Of me?"

"Of you." A beat. "Of myself."

The blonde's eyes were steady. "I'm not scared of you anymore. Or myself."

The king's voice was quiet. "You never answered—why did you come?"

Glinda took a step back, her gaze wavering. "You— What I felt… that first night at the club… and since…" Their eyes caught, and Glinda's words followed suit.

Elf shifted and, slightly, smiled. "Catch me—I'm falling."

"Faster than anyone should," the blonde whispered. Their lips met—a first acquaintance—and Glinda felt a hand at the back of her neck. She felt thirsty and drowning. And she imagined, for once, that there was no greater world or life than that she lived.

When they pulled apart—Glinda was not sure who had broken the contact—she seized an opportunity before the daze wore off to give Elf a sharp shove backward, and a splash followed. The king surfaced sputtering and shaking out her black hair, which fell to partially obscure confused brown eyes. "What the hell? Aren't there any signs about horseplay around here?"

A shrug. "Nope. This is too high-class for that." Kicking off her heels, Glinda swiftly stepped to the edge of the pool. "Anyway, there's no life guard—and I promised you an adventure."

Gracefully, with hardly a sound of displaced water, she dove.

Again she found herself in a muffled world—serenity. A blurred figure sent bubbles rushing toward the surface, and Elf came into focus, grinning. Glinda smiled back and kissed her—until her heart and her lungs burned, and finally she burst toward the surface after the last of her breath. She was welcomed into air with a gentle elbow encircling her shoulder and fingers at her neck. Glistening green, darker in the night, against her pale skin. She felt tingles everywhere Elf touched.

Her companion laughed and kissed her forehead. "Very _Final Fantasy X_," she joked quietly.

Glinda blinked. "What?"

"Sorry. Nothing. I meant _R+J_, you know, Claire and Leo, iambic pentameter."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "'O prodigious birth of love,'" she quipped.

"Yeah, all that." Elf had hardly finished the words before recapturing Glinda's lips. The girl could not have expressed the sensations she felt—but she heard music. All her senses of shame and terror that had bound her for weeks, she drowned them in music. Liberated and… happy. She felt ecstatic. She felt… herself. And Elf's touch, intoxicating. She felt.

Dizzy, Glinda drew back. Back to the world, new and unknown, but her sense of it was keen. Hesitant. Welcoming. She touched Elf's hand, and the green king understood that their momentary adventure had ended. But she was smiling.

Elf pressed a supporting hand to the blonde's back as she climbed from the pool. And upon following, Glinda pulled her green form close to her own pale one, shivering from cold air and trembling from the heat of Elf's body.

Embarrassed, the girl scurried away to fetch towels and robes, offering each to her companion.

The king ran long, bony fingers over the material of the plush robe as she slipped it onto her shoulders. "I can't begin to _fathom_ how much this would cost."

Glinda laughed lightly. "They'll never notice it missing."

"I can't imagine wearing it again."

The blonde paused to contemplate the sight. Elf did indeed look out of place—perhaps largely due to her sense of awkwardness—in the fluffy finery. Glinda could not suppress a laugh. "Give it to Thalia or Cressida. I suppose they will have to fight over it."

"Yeah, more like a fuck-fight." Elf's eyes widened in shock and embarrassment almost the moment she'd said the words. "I'm sorry—that was inappropriate…"

Glinda shrugged. "In what way? You needn't tread lightly with me. I've had enough of that in sixteen years, thank you." Elf tilted her head, contemplating for several moments until the blonde began to grow uncomfortable. "What? I feel like a head-case at a shrink."

Finally blinking, Elf shook her head. "I just… every now and then I feel like I perhaps understand you." A moment, then a smile, flashing pearly teeth. "But it's no good. You're beyond my mind's reach."

Again blushing, Glinda tucked a stray strand of damp hair behind her ear. She practically fled in avoiding Elf's eyes as they made their way out of the building. She had hurried halfway around the car when she felt a firm grip at her wrist, and she was spun—finding herself staring at a green neck. She had to draw away to look up into Elf's eyes.

"You won't disappear?" the king breathed. Glinda fantasized she detected as much fear as she felt. "You won't—again?" The blonde's fingers trembled, and she wanted them to be held. But she did not want to do the reaching. Elf stood stone still. "I don't think I could wake again—fearing this was a dream."

A warmth filled Glinda's chest, and she ran her fingers through damp, shaggy hair, brushing past an ear to bury them in black and gripped. She pulled Elf's head down toward hers. And she felt—for a moment—that in fact she was the white knight… rescuing a damsel in distress.

"If I wake up," Glinda whispered, "and this is still reality—then I promise you the same." The grip on her wrist tightened, and her pulse raced. Glinda captured green-grey lips with pink, and they battled, it seemed, to force the other out of breath first. The cold and burning that ripped through her tingled most strongly beneath her ears and in her abdomen, creeping lower. She may have tugged too hard at her fistful of hair, but Elf did not flinch or complain. When Glinda could absolutely no longer breathe, she broke away. They departed in silence, but Elf's hand crept to lightly take hold of hers as she drove.

The runaway king offered a smile before stepping out of the car and rounding the corner back toward the club, and Glinda sat for a moment, manicured hands resting idly on the wheel before finally she put the car back into motion.

She thought that she would not sleep that night, from the excitement that still buzzed in her brain and her limbs. Yet as soon as cheek touched pillow, she could not have told her subconscious from voluntary imaginings if she'd tried.

**AN2: Song and references from _Next to Normal_. If you're into musical theatre at all, this show should definitely go high up on your list of things to see. Here's a link to the song itself-I don't highly recommend looking up video footage, because _Next to Normal_ is not a show best seen out of order.^_^;**

**www (dot ) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=hjdPdJh89U4**

**PS2 - Hope it was worth the wait..**


	6. Liaisons

**AN: HAPPY CHRISTMAS, BITCHES! (Or, Omfg Yay for Free Time to Write What the Hell I Want Instead of What the Powers Tell Me) **

**I can't apologize enough for taking forfuckingever to post, so I'm only going to waste your time with one apology: I'm really sorry...!_**

**So, enough of time wasting - I want to keep this AN shortish so you can read the gorram chapter. But I want to tack on, even though I'm terribly lame in the amount of time it takes me to post, I REALLY appreciate and in humble honesty thrive on your reviews. People who have continued to review are to be given credit for getting this chapter up in a less untimely fashion than it would have been otherwise. I love hearing from all of you who continue to read, and your reviews encourage me to work as fast as I can. I can't express enough. Thank you.**

**That said, I can't promise to post faster..._ If you've read the new chapter of The Light's Gone Out (holy crap new chapter!) then you know from that AN that my writing program is crazy fucked up. But I promise to not forget this story and to keep at it. It's one of my favorite pet projects.^_^**

**Hey look, here's a chapter!**

Chapter 6 – Liaisons

Glinda reclined as well as her plastic chair would allow. The school's cafeteria bustled all around her with chatter and bumbling motion. The blonde ran her fingers through silky straight hair, braiding with deft fingers and finding the activity peacefully satisfactory. Mina sighed under her ministrations, unused to such attention. Glinda suspected, from the quiver in the girl's lip as she contemplated spilling her heart and also from the way she had rushed to the blonde for comfort after receiving—oddly—a smile rather than a cool acknowledgement upon greeting, that her acquaintance was troubled. By what, she could not have guessed, for Glinda found she had little inkling into the personal lives of those who most frequently surrounded her. She made no vow, upon this revelation, that this particular truth of her life should change, and yet she discovered none of her usual apathy at the thought of involving herself in such personal troubles. She was patient and, in a calming, unrushed sort of way, caring. A different sort of apathy altogether.

"He's going to ask you, you know," Mina said, eyes closed as her chin rested on her folded wrists.

"Who? And what, I might ask?" Glinda returned, without distraction from her task of smoothing and weaving hair.

"Bobby. He wants to ask you to homecoming. He's got himself all in a twist about it."

The blonde laughed. "Homecoming? As though he were proposing, no doubt. He's probably biting his cuticles as we speak."

"What will you… say to him?" The hesitation in Mina's voice caused Glinda to pause.

"I could find myself otherwise occupied." She eyed the other girl, who had yet to look up. "If someone else should be interested."

"Is there someone you want to go with?"

Glinda returned to braiding. "I didn't mean that. I just was unsure if the boy in question might be spoken for."

"Obviously not," Mina said, "or he wouldn't be asking you."

The blonde twisted a hairband artfully and tossed the braid over its owner's shoulder. "Done. I have no interest in going to homecoming with Bobby."

For the first time, Mina opened her eyes and turned to Glinda. "Then you'll say no?"

"Poor boy—I'll let him down easy. No need to crush his spirits so completely that he decides just to stay home and sulk. Who knows? Perhaps he'll find some other girl more amiable than myself who would make his night happier than I would."

Mina nodded, straight faced, her shoulder's relaxing. "Thank you for doing my hair." Glinda giggled and produced a compact mirror, which Mina sat admiring as the now idle blonde caught sight, across the wide space, of Avery eying her contemplatively. The expression was so odd upon his face that she returned it with an inquisitive blink, raising her eyebrows and studying him just as directly until finally he averted his gaze. With something of a self-satisfied sneer and a shake of her head, Glinda rose, gathering her bag as she set off for her next class.

She arrived early and busied herself with carefully composing a text message as she watched students filter in and out of her periphery. When Avery came in, he sat directly in front of her, turned in his chair so that he could stare at her. Glinda did not look up. Finally, he said, "Enough. What the hell's up?"

"Up with what?"

"With you."

"Your articulation astounds me," she replied dryly. "Listen, Bobby usually comes to you for life advice, doesn't he? If he mentions homecoming, you should angle him in Mina's direction. She'll be gnawing her manicured nails until then."

"Don't you think he's going to ask you?"

"Of course." She flipped her phone closed. "But I'm very practiced at deflecting him."

"You have an excuse?"

"I'll think of one."

"Right. It'd be easier if you just got yourself a date. You could have your pick."

Glinda shrugged. "Who're you taking this year? Another slut with too much lipstick?"

Avery rolled his eyes. "My cousin is coming into town. The old man wants me to take her so she can 'meet the local youngsters.'"

"So we're both in need of rescuing," the blonde said simply. "We'll just go together."

The young man laughed. "But if I take _you_, who will I get to fuck at the end of the party?"

"Certainly not your cousin. It won't be the first time our parents have seen us off on a mock date. Tell them you already promised me."

"You're oddly agreeable today." Avery regarded her with apparent caution. "What's with you? You're in a… good mood."

Glinda laughed. "Fuck off my mood."

"See! That's just what I'm talking about. What happened to the Glinda I know?"

The girl waved a dismissive hand. "She woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Avery giggled nervously, his eyes squinting in a boyish manner. "You know, as scary as you normally are, this is a bit unnerving."

Glinda touched his hand in feigned concern. "I promise to be a bitch the night of the dance."

"Thanks. That makes me feel much better."

Bobby entered and looked skittishly around the room; Glinda returned quickly to her cell phone. "Incoming," she whispered to Avery. Bobby did appear to be steeling himself, as he took a deep breath and strode over to Glinda in as manly a fashion as his short stature could manage.

"Glinda, I wondered if I might talk to you in private." Glinda detected only a slight squeak in his voice.

Avery reclined lazily in his seat. "C'mon, buddy. Can't you say it in front of all of us?"

Bobby blushed furiously. "I'd rather… alone."

"It can't be that private. You wouldn't need more than say… twenty minutes would you?" Avery waggled his eyebrows at Glinda. His gaze swept over Bobby. "Or maybe not even five."

Glinda rolled her eyes. "Is this important Bobby?"

"Very."

Mina entered and caught sight of them, stopping dead in her tracks. Glinda tossed her hair and put away her cell phone. "Well, if it's too important to wait, it'll have to be here. Class starts in only a minute."

Bobby's blush darkened. Perhaps he feared that he would not be able to muster the courage a second time, for he pressed onward. "It regards the homecoming dance—"

"Oh, that." Glinda waved a hand. "So sorry, I've agreed to go with Avery. As friends," she added the latter bit quickly in response to the expression on Bobby's face. "A rescue mission of sorts."

The boy sputtered a bit as he spoke. "Rescue mission?"

"Nah, forget about it," Avery said, rising and slapping a hand onto his friend's—or victim's—shoulder. "Can we talk a second? Man to man."

"But… class…"

"Don't worry about it." He turned to address Glinda. "We'll be right back."

She waved them away, though silently she harbored a small concern over the amount of tact Avery might be capable of in the arduous task of handling Bobby's tender emotions. When the boys returned shortly after however, shrugging sheepishly at the teacher as he completed the roll call, her fears were put to rest as the younger, avoiding her gaze, came back solemn but tearless.

As Avery retook his seat in front of Glinda, he flashed her a toothy grin before settling into his customary slouch.

OZ

Glinda ascended three short steps to the front entrance, the sliding doors parting for her like the myth of the Red Sea, and she entered as a queen into her domain. Past bustling shoppers and store facades, she walked as one with authority and with purpose. She checked her text messages, nodded once, without ever breaking her stride.

Salespeople flocked to her assistance, and she accepted graciously, though Glinda had a better eye for finery than any of them. The girl observed as a patient huntress, and when she found a prize that fit her intention, a quick flash of credit card completed her kill. The necklace was beautiful—alternating platinum and white gold, lined only at the edges with tiny diamonds. It was tasteful and elegant—and expensive. Glinda allowed the item to be giftwrapped before tucking the box into her purse.

And then she was out the door, heels clipping across the parking lot with the same straight-sighted efficiency of step and certainty that had guided her path since her awe-inspiring presence had swooped upon the unsuspecting mall.

The pickup truck started even as Glinda slipped into it. Green fingers gripped hers briefly before throwing the vehicle into gear. The blonde glanced around at the shabby interior, smelled the dust off the heating system, and took in the roar—not the purr—of the engine. She laughed, "Do you drive a car or a tractor?"

"Well it's not a Beemer." Elf reached over to teasingly caress Glinda's jawline, a contact that made her writhe and giggle. "Would you have preferred a horse-drawn carriage?" Glinda shook her head and kissed a finger as it drew a way, startling Elf and prompting a dark shade of green to rise to her cheeks that pleased the blonde. Satisfied, she turned her eyes to the window to consider as the scenery passed.

"Where are we going?" asked Glinda, growing giddy at Elf's secretiveness.

"Well, it's not a country club."

The blonde laughed. "Don't be a bastard."

Elf blinked, a momentary reaction that washed into an unreadable expression. Glinda furrowed a brow. A smile crept to Elf's lips with a series of sidelong glances. "What? You look so very troubled. And contemplative. It doesn't suit you, my sweet."

Glinda rolled her eyes and returned her focus to the window. "I would hardly call myself 'yours' or 'sweet.'" Elf took her turn to laugh.

"Bittersweet?"

"Bite me."

The drag king clipped her teeth together in a playful gnash. Glinda noticed, for the first time, that her companion had unusually sharp canines. For reasons she could not explain, she found them adorably attractive. She must have been staring, because Elf gave her an odd look before saying, "We're here."

Sometime during Glinda's lapse of concentration, the truck had arrived in the middle of nowhere. They were surrounded by trees and the soft sound of rippling leaves. Living things skittered about invisible, and Glinda heard the roar of a river somewhere nearby. "Where are we?" she asked. Elf smiled and stepped out of the truck.

"My family used to come here when I was a little kid," the king explained as Glinda followed around the side of the old vehicle. Elf hurtled herself into the back of the truck before offering a hand like a gentlemen to help Glinda climb in after. The bed was lined with pillows and quilts. Glinda stood for an awkward moment and noticed a dark green blush creep into Elf's cheeks before she continued, "My dad would be angry about something, would go off on his own into the woods, and my mom and the rest of us would stay here and picnic in the back of the truck, reading stories, playing card games, anything. I liked it." Elf spoke the words shyly. With a smile that crept into her eyes, Glinda took a half-step forward and captured smirking lips with her own.

The natural world stilled, though the river roared all the louder. Glinda felt cushions at her back and curled her spine into them. Fingers at her hips gripped tightly; her body was pulled more firmly against Elf's. As a tongue brushed against her front teeth, the blonde responded involuntarily. As she melted, allowing Elf the access demanded, her purr turned to a growl of displeasure. Digging her fingers into a bicep that spasmed away from the unexpected pain, Glinda twisted until Elf's shoulders slammed into the floor of the truck's bed. Momentarily stunned, the grin returned to green-grey lips as Glinda, flushed with excitement and control, straddled the narrow hips beneath her. Blood rushed to opposing polarities. Elf chuckled and gasped breath with greater urgency as the blonde nipped at her jaw. The same breath transformed into a moan as Glinda sat back suddenly, taking her warmth with her. Where contact had been lost, Elf tingled as though with static charge.

The blonde, entirely composed, nestled comfortably into the cushions that had been arranged for her. "Tell me more about your family," she said, running distracting fingers through dark wisps of hair.

Elf pressed fingers to her temples. "My _family_?"

"I hardly know anything about you."

The king growled. "I don't particularly want to talk about my family right now."

Glinda laughed. Somewhat mockingly, Elf thought. "Do you mean to tell me you drove all the way out here just have your way with me? For shame."

"You started it!"

The girl tossed blonde curls with a smirk. "How mature."

"Well sure,"—Elf shrugged helplessly—"but if you wanted to talk, couldn't you have said that _before_…?"

Glinda leaned close and breathed hotly against a green ear. "Before you got all _excited_?" she teased.

"Not helping." Placing an apologetic peck on sighing lips, the blonde sat back to listen. Sitting up, Elf pressed fingers to her temples again. Glinda waited patiently, listening again to the sounds of animals in the trees and underbrush but never taking her eyes off of Elf. "My father's an ordained priest."

The blonde laughed. "Are you serious?"

"Dead. Only, with such a scandal for a family, he couldn't hold down a job at a parish. So now he broadcasts on a conservative radio program under a pseudonym. And believe me, does not take it one bit less seriously."

Glinda blinked incredulously. "Your father is a radio preacher?"

"He can be extremely charismatic. It suits him well. He hides behind the lull of his voice, and people fail to notice how fanatical he is."

Glinda breathed slowly, mulling the information. It made a certain sort of unbelievable sense. "Go on."

Elf shifted, a dark look on her face. "There's nothing else to say about him, really. He married a reform case, and it backfired on him. My mother's a blissfully heathen now as she was in her wild youth."

Smiling, the blonde took hold of Elf's hand. "Passed it on, did she?"

"Believe me, I'm domesticated in comparison. She's a trip."

"I'd like to meet her."

The king paused before, slowly, smiling. "I'd like that too." Fingers twitched, and Glinda felt a spark not unlike static shock.

Before the moment could run its course, a large raindrop struck Elf's nose, causing her to flinch. Brown eyes warily scanned the sky, and the king gave and involuntary shiver, despite the warmth of the evening. "I thought the rain wasn't supposed to move in until later," she grumbled in a low voice. The patter of sporadic drops began to muffle the rest of the world.

The drive back was quieter. Elf gripped Glinda's fingers tightly, though the blonde did not complain. They parted with a breathless kiss but no further words. Glinda sprinted a few steps into the shelter of the mall.

Shaking away the damp, she set about her business with a fury. Sweeping in and out of department stores, employees on commission trailing her like well-trained dogs at her stylish heels, she pointed and paid with only minimal attention to what it was she bought. Who would notice, or care? Just so long as she carted home enough for half a dozen men to have to carry—no one would bother a delving glance to decipher whether she'd upheld her strict sense of taste. As specifically as she normally picked over a day's catch, she rerouted the same efficiency into haste. And she stood waiting expectantly near the door as Charles arrived to retrieve her. There was a brief hullabaloo over loading her things into the car in the downpour, but Glinda wasted none of her own time in stepping, under the protection of Charles's umbrella, out of her kingdom and into her carriage. Let the underlings spend their drenched minutes on such trivial matters. Anyhow, she tipped them generously enough.

She did not wait for Charles to open her door upon arriving home. Clutching her purse tightly at her ribs, she left the servants to sort out unloading the cargo. Charles cast her an inquisitive look, but she mumbled that she was tired and disappeared without overseeing the final stage of her mall trip.

Her parents' room was dark. Glinda had the impression that it was distinctly colder than the other rooms of the house, but the thermostat belied the idea. Without turning on the lights, she made her way quickly across the room and took the giftwrapped box from her purse, leaving it on the cool fabric of her mother's pillow, lingering for a moment. The stillness unnerved her, and she shut the door quite firmly on her way out.

**AN2: I know I don't have a song from this show in the story (yet!), but _Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson_ is closing on Broadway Jan 2. If it is within your realm of possibility, GO SEE IT! It's the best thing of this season. **


	7. Life is a Cabaret

**AN: In the interest of not delaying this post further still, I've given this chapter fewer read-overs than I ought to have - so I apologize if there are any glaring grammatical errors. (Feel free to point them out.)**

**On the subject of pointing things out - please review! Please, please, please. On anything, no matter how general or specific. The major events that follow are coming out a little earlier than I anticipated, so hopefully you at least have something substantial to which to react. (But small things are fine too.) So please review... Most appreciated.**

**That said, you might hate me before this is over - but I suspect you'll love me first. Heh^_^;**

**...**

Chapter 7 – Life is a Cabaret

"Fraulein Sally Bowles!" Thalia and Cressida flanked Glinda, as they were wont to do. She had learned not to allow herself to become flustered.

"When are you going to let us put you in one of our shows?"

"Life is a Cabaret, old chum." Cressida pursed her lips with deadpan seduction.

"Come at the Cabaret." Glinda caught out of the corner of her eye as Thalia gave a spasmodic thrust of her hips—or his… The blonde had not yet keyed into the correct use of pronouns when the queens were away from the club.

"Down girls," Elf cut in, putting a protective arm around Glinda's shoulders. "Leave her alone. Or I'm going to have to quit bringing you out in public."

"And isn't it a charming little ice cream parlor?" Thalia tossed her hair. "So old fashioned."

The old-fashion proprietor looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Cressida leaned over her partner's shoulder. "Darling, let me have some of your butter-pecan."

"Back off, bitch! You're the one who wanted fudge mint chip."

Elf shifted and gripped Glinda's shoulder more tightly. Glinda looked over at her but could not catch the chocolate-brown gaze that was so often so soothing. "Something wrong?" she whispered.

Elf's eyes darted about. "I'm not very comfortable… in public places."

Glinda only stared blankly. "I met you in a crowded bar."

"That was different."

The blonde laughed quietly. "Because _there_ you didn't stand out?"

"Not as much as you did," Cressida cut slyly into their conversation.

"Really, you _must_ perform for us!"

"We're not above begging."

Thalia clicked her tongue. "In fact, I always let begging have the top."

"Slut," Cressida gibed.

"I know, right."

Glinda lifted an eyebrow. "I appreciate the offer, but I hardly think I'd pass as a boy."

"No, no, darling!" Thalia exchanged a sympathetic look with her counterpart.

"See, it doesn't have to work like that," Cressida explained. "Look cute and give them a good show—that's all they care about. Get someone in drag in on the act, and no one gives a shit who's the lead. As long as you razzle-dazzle." The glint in her eyes was conspiratory.

Glinda furrowed her brow when Elf cut in. "She doesn't want to. Leave her alone."

"I can decide if I want to, thank you." Glinda said icily and shrugged away the green arm, to Elf's surprise and discomposure.

"C'mon, this is silly," the king whispered. Blue eyes narrowed, though before the blonde could formulate a response, the queens interrupted with a squeal.

"Mr. DeMille, she's ready for her close up!"

A pair of hands gripped either of Glinda's arms, lifting her from the seat. "My house," Cressida said, "into makeup."

The blonde blinked, suddenly overwhelmed, glancing nervously back at Elf. The king shrugged—not quite helplessly: distinctly letting the kidnapping occur without intervention. Glinda glared again, remembering why she was annoyed, and allowed herself to be led along with a dignified pride.

"This will be just like that scene in _Mrs. Doubtfire_!" Thalia trilled.

The queens made their exit with a chorus of "Matchmaker," captive securely in tow.

OZ

"Ladies," Glinda managed when the queens released their grip on her face for a brief moment, "I do have my own makeup."

"Nonsense, this is _stage_ makeup," Thalia said with a wave of her brush.

"She does have a softer complexion than you or I," Cressida allowed. "No, no, perhaps darker on the lipstick, darling."

"If the lips are too dark, they won't offset the eye shadow."

Glinda was no stranger to makeup—she had well mastered its subtle allure. Even still, she had some concept for the stage's necessity for overstatement. Yet she had never felt her pores so thoroughly smothered. A mask might frankly have been lighter.

The blonde rose and blocked eagerly groping hands with either arm. "I think that's enough," she said. "Perhaps if we three tried working in tandem? I might surprise you with my own abilities."

"Hmm. Too much," Thalia said, casually ignoring Glinda.

Cressida nodded her assent. "Start from scratch."

Glinda gratefully washed away the layers of paint. As she was dabbing at the corners of her eyes, a woman's cheery voice called—rather louder than was necessary—"Cody! Your green friend is here!"

Cressida opened the door, and Elf stepped in, a bit sheepishly.

"Excuse her lack of tact," the queen said with a wave of her long fingers.

Elf shrugged. "She doesn't mean anything. I don't mind." The king caught slight of Glinda and smirked—brown eyes implying slyly they two shared some secret. Glinda blushed, feeling her heart quicken.

"You're interrupting a work of art," Thalia snapped.

Elf snorted a laugh. "I see. I figured you two would've had her looking like a hooker by now."

"She doesn't need our help," Cressida said, to be slapped on her arm by Glinda. "Ow! That hurt, missy."

"Bite me." The blonde rolled her eyes.

Thalia and Cressida wasted not a moment in obliging, each attacking a different side of her neck. Glinda squealed.

Elf, ever the gallant knight, gently extricated the girl from the clutches of her predators. "Half an hour alone with you two and she's developed a vampire fetish."

"Mmmm. Sparkly." Thalia licked her lips.

"Bite your tongue," Cressida gasped. "Give me gothic leather or Victorian frills any night."

"Bill Compton with his _Gone with the Wind_ accent…"

"Ooh, _any_ man ass in _True Blood_…"

The queens laced fingers and simultaneously sighed, "Eric!"

Glinda shrugged and tossed back a lock of golden curls. "I've always preferred Godric personally."

The room went deathly quiet. The blonde blinked into three pairs of staring eyes. The silence stretched until finally Thalia whispered, "Ooh, our little minx has bi-tendencies."

Cressida kicked her partner. "She'd have to, to fancy _this_ scruff of a scamp."

"You like Godric?" Elf tilted her head to the side, studying her girlfriend with a curiosity so earnest that Glinda could not help but feel deeply awkward. She leaned her head against a green shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes.

"By I love _you_, dear."

Elf pulled away forcefully and had disappeared from the room before Glinda had the time to feel properly stunned. She stood open-mouthed and puzzled helplessly over her companion's reaction. Elf had not been angry at her confession of star admiration, so why—

"What an emo boy," Cressida sighed. "His inner melodrama is twisted as a broken slinky."

Glinda ran out of the house to find Elf pacing and brooding across the back lawn. She was wary in approaching, unsure what might cause another hurtful and entirely baffling reaction. She did not get the chance to speak, however, as the king blurted, "Do you?"

The girl started. "Do I what?"

Elf's eyes seared into her. "Love me?"

Glinda was taken aback. Confronted with such an unforgiving question, her first instinct erred toward anger. She felt it rage in her heart righteous and hot, shielding her vulnerability. But another emotion quelled it—fear of lashing out too rashly in too tender a moment. She feared the consequence of her defensive fury more than the answer she was hesitant to give.

"Yes, I think I do," Glinda said quietly. Tears burned in her eyes—what for, she could not have said.

Strong arms encircled her, and Glinda felt a warm breath at her neck that comforted her. "Then don't say it as a joke," Elf whispered, voice trembling. Glinda raised her arms to return the embrace.

The blonde disengaged gently and gave Elf's sharp shoulder a squeeze. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go take the reins of a pair of drag queens."

OZ

"Before I introduce our next act—a toast." Chaz raised a bottle.  
"There was a queen from Bellaire  
Who was fucking her bitch on the stair.  
The banister broke,  
So she doubled her stroke  
And finished him off in midair."

The crowd threw back their drinks as a unit.

"Only I lied," Chaz said. "I won't be introducing our next act. Instead I'll leave that task to our strange yet dashing one-number Emcee."

Army boots thunked dully, even under light steps, as a shadow emerged on cue. A stir of interest could be heard, murmurs and shuffling as the audience, both standing and lounging in dimly lit corners, shifted for a better view. As Chaz passed off the mic, white teeth grinned from the dimly lit figure made only darker by green skin.

With greased black hair and a long leather trench coat, Elf appeared strikingly imposing as dark eyes swept the hushed audience. The pause was palpable, hanging like steam in the air. Grin broadening, the king offered a sweeping gesture and shattered the silence.

"Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen. Willkommen—to the Philosophy Club!" The quiet spectators erupted, whistling and howling their applause. Elf commanded them. "I am your host—"

"For one number," Chaz piped from backstage, to be squealed at by Cressida and Thalia—all to be ignored by the bar's patrons, as their attention remained bound.

"And now we are proud to present, and toast"—all present were only too happy to drink again—"our shining new talent. I mean that literally, fremde, _shining_. So talented, so charming—only yesterday, I said to her, 'I want you for my wife.'" Elf nodded emphatically. "And she said, 'Your wife? What would she want with me?'" A beat passed for laughter both accommodating and genuine. "Thank you. I give you—and don't forget to bring her back when you are finished with her—Fraulein Sally Bowles!"

The cheers were loud, even as spectators strained to hear, hungry for music, eyes blinking widely into the dark recesses of the stage, only to squint in the flare of sudden stage lighting. Beyond their blindness, a voice spoke in sultry tones:

"Mama thinks I'm living in a convent—  
A secluded little convent  
In the southern part of France.  
Mama doesn't even have an inkling  
That I'm working in a nightclub  
In a pair of lacy pants."

From the light, a new leather-clad figure in heels, fishnet, and crimson lipstick stepped forward, tossed her golden curls becomingly—and sang.

"_So please, sir,  
If you run into my mama,  
Don't reveal my indiscretion.  
Give a working girl a chance._"

In an instant, Thalia and Cressida appeared in full makeup and padded boobs, kicking and twirling to their gay hearts' delightful content. Elf stood back to a corner of the stage, observing with a smirk that sent a flush down Glinda's scandalously exposed skin. But she only smiled dazzling and danced.

"_If you had a secret,  
You bet I could keep it.  
I would never tell on you—_"

Glinda's backup waggled their hips and took one tip after another, snatching them from fingers and waistbands with equal vigor and flutterings of mascaraed eyelashes.

Backstage, they laughed freely and loudly. Thalia teased Cressida's ear with a crumpled single bill and giggled. "Split tips four ways?" she asked with a lick of her lips.

"Technically all tips go to the lead performer," Cressida said.

Glinda shook her head and shrugged. "I don't need it."

"Three ways then," Thalia grinned evilly.

"Hold on." The blonde leaned into Elf's shoulder with a nudge. "I think I'll give my quarter to our Master of Ceremonies."

Cressida winked. Thalia rolled her eyes.

"Playing favorires."

"It pays to be sleeping with the star."

"Hey!" Elf flicked Thalia's arm, earning a yelp in response. "A little respect, if you don't mind."

"I always have respect for sex."

"My show," Glinda said, with finality, "I choose how the spoils are split."

"And what a show," Elf said softly, kissing Glinda on the lips then drawing away, smiling. "They loved you."

"No kidding," Thalia snorted, laughing.

"The few straight men will go home weeping, the lezzies will have to scoop up their jaws—"

"And cum," Thalia offered.

"—and the gays are currently questioning their life choices," Cressida said, with a smirk that said more than Glinda could guess.

"I can't claim all the credit," the blonde said, dodging the complement. She ran a hand along the collar of Elf's black leather trench coat. "I wasn't the only one on stage who drew some eyes."

The king blushed darker green. "Yours don't count."

"She's not wrong," Cressida added with a nod. "You should dress like a terrorist more often. It's dashing."

"I dread to ask what it cost," Elf said.

Glinda laughed. "And you shall never know, sir."

"It's so posh having a financial backer," Thalia trilled with a delightful shudder. "I feel like a real Renaissance artist."

"_So_ much nicer than being a starving artist," Cressida agreed.

Elf's arm had snaked around Glinda's waist, and she heard the voices of the drag queens mute to a dull patter. She nuzzled into sharp-scented leather and brushed fingertips with her own.

Before she managed to slip out the back door after Elf, to avoid adoring drunks, Cressida caught hold of Glinda's wrist. "You might not be a queen," Cressida said softly, resting a tiara atop Glinda's golden curls, "but you're a star."

Recalling two homecoming crowns past, the blonde felt a warm rush far superior to either. Hundreds of cheers from her peers at school had never matched to the screams and whistles of the clusterfuck of misfits who frequented the Philosophy Club. She wondered with melancholy if she would be crowned a third time as Homecoming Queen, but Cressida's assuring squeeze on her wrist rescued her from the bout of morbid loneliness.

OZ

The night air was cool against Glinda's skin. She listened to the chirping of crickets, the whispering of wind, and was still. Elf touched her neck gently, and she smiled.

The heavy trench coat was draped across Glinda's shoulders, offered in a truly gentlemanly fashion. It was so long on her, it touched the bed of the truck at her feet. She glanced sidelong at Elf. Her raven hair, which had been greased and tamed for the performance, was already returning to its natural mussed state. Glinda smiled and buried her fingers in it.

"I'm glad you decided to do your own makeup," Elf said with a smirk. "It's nice to be able to see you under there."

Glinda rolled her eyes. "Even Thalia and Cressida complimented me on it. I told the bitches I knew what I was doing."

"You do indeed," the king breathed, before her mouth and tongue made a valiant effort toward removing the blonde's lipstick.

Glinda felt a red blush burn from her cheekbones down to her breasts, where her nipples pressed through layers cloth against warm flesh. As Elf's lips moved past her ear to breathe against her neck, a shudder of energy coursed through her entire body, to her toes and back up. Grinning wickedly, she turned and attacked with possessive desire, taking Elf by surprise.

The leather coat discarded beneath them, Glinda straddled Elf's ribs, not sure when their legs had gone out from beneath them. But she only laughed softly and nibbled a green earlobe, delighting in the short gasps against her cheek. Her fingers wandered, adventurous, over collarbone and forearms, finding ticklish palms and straying again, playing at the hem of Elf's shirt and probing beneath, to caress smooth skin that trembled at her touch. Her hand slid upward and brushed against the binder Elf wore for her drag performances, then down to follow the sharp ridge of hipbone just below the waistband of her dark jeans. Feeling Elf's nervousness, Glinda kissed her lips gently and whispered nonsensical comforts. In the excitement and heat, she felt her own blood stilling, slowing time to savor the moments of skin and breath and sweet scent.

Glinda heard her name whispered as she kissed her way to collarbone and chest, through shirt and binding, rib by rib to the stomach exposed under the king's lifted shirt. Elf cried her name again, louder, with a buck as the blonde kissed just above the button of her jeans before releasing it.

Elf wore a packer beneath her underwear, which Glinda moved away along with the cloth above it. Elf's stomach rose and fell rapidly as the blonde's fingers reached to tease the course black hair beneath.

"Glinda," the king said again, catching hold of her wrist. Green fingers trembled as their owner blushed a darker shade. The blonde stared steadily, lovingly as dark eyes darted away. "Glinda…" she rasped, trembling, "I've never…"

With a soft smile, the blonde leaned up to silence whispering lips with her own, kissing deeper then teasing with pecks across cheeks and nose. Her fingers swirled where they'd stopped, eliciting a cry that made her own heart dance for joy. "Don't worry, love," she said quietly, drawing back. Elf shook with pleasure and nervousness. "Slow and gentle," she assured. The king watched with wide eyes as Glinda dipped her hand to her own sex and brought her fingertips back warm and wet. She touched her sticky-sweet lubricant to the tip of Elf's stiffened clitoris. Hissing through her teeth, Elf arched beneath her lover's body.

Kissing jawbone, collar, ear, and finally again lips, Glinda traced Elf's opening before her fingers danced back up, griping and fondling the swelling bud between them.

Fingernails dug into her forearm as Elf squirmed and thrashed, finally screaming into the night at her peak as Glinda bit hard on her neck, leaving a dark mark behind. Breath ragged, Elf continued to shudder against the blonde, who had busied the fingers of her other hand at brushing damp raven locks away from misted chocolate eyes. The king kissed the hand, and Glinda giggled. "You're so calm," Elf gasped, head falling back with a thunk against the truck's bed.

Glinda breathed her lover's scent and nestled into the space between jaw and collarbone. "I just felt, I don't need to be afraid with you," she said softly.

Elf hid her face behind golden curls, laughing with embarrassment. "That makes me feel even lamer for being such a nervous wreck."

The blonde laughed. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, when you've never even…" She stopped as quickly as the words escaped, biting her tongue and wishing she could take them back.

Elf quieted, sitting up on an elbow to look Glinda in the eyes. The blonde wished she could hide. "Then what you meant by that was… you have felt you needed to be afraid, before."

Glinda's hands shook as she gripped Elf's arm. "That doesn't matter."

"Someone hurt you." The king's voice was low.

"No, it wasn't like…"

"Someone hurt you."

Glinda felt cold as she drew away. Elf almost reached out to her, to follow, but hesitated. "It was just as much my fault."

"What happened?"

Elf's voice was steady—concerned and firm. Glinda shivered. "It was all just stupid. And it's over. It's past."

"Tell me." The blonde shook her head again. Elf's eyes widened. Realization struck hard, and Glinda felt her heart-rate quicken. "It was him," Elf growled. "That jackass… _he_ was the one. He forced you?" The blonde's guilty expression betrayed the answer she did not want to give. Elf rose, suddenly, startling Glinda. "I'll kill him!"

"No!" Glinda grabbed Elf's arm, clinging tightly, crying. "You don't understand."

"Understand?" Elf was in tears also—shaking, raging, aching.

"He was high. I was drunk. It wasn't…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes, it hurt," she admitted, "but even I didn't know how badly I didn't want it until it was too late." Elf had stilled, but the silence frightened Glinda. She sobbed, looking only down, terrified at what the night had become, terrified at the resurgence of feelings within herself. "You don't understand him like I do—he never meant… He's never touched a drug again after that, I swear it."

Elf dropped to her knees, breathing laboriously through sobs. "But how can you still… How can you even stand to be around him, after…?"

Glinda's finger's brushed at her lover's tears. "I don't expect anyone to understand. He does love me, and means best—it's difficult to see him, underneath. But no one else sees what he goes through—and no one else knows me like he has. Since we were children. Promise me—you won't hurt him, or do anything. Just forget." She stroked Elf's hair, whispering soothingly. "Just forget."

"Glinda…" Elf pleaded, crying against her neck. Her sobs were of agony, ripping into the blonde like claws.

Glinda pressed her lips against her lover's ear, singing, barely above a whisper:

"_What good is sitting  
Alone in your room?  
__Come hear the music play…_"

Elf's only answer was in tears and clipped breaths, fingers curling tightly, painfully, in her hair.

**AN2: I tried very hard to find the Cabaret revival cast recording uploads, but either they've been stripped from youtube or are hiding very well. So anyway, this is the best quality video I can find of the Roundabout production version of "Don't Tell Mama," even though it's not the original cast. (Liza doesn't do this one, so don't bother searching. Anyway, nothing whatsoever against her, but I kind of hate Fosse's direction.)**

**www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=ajrXUft8p3g**

**And for shits, here's the titular track, performed by Natasha Richardson:**

**videos (dot) natasha-richardson (dot) org/view/94/cabaret-cabaret/**

**AN3: Also, review plz. *Goes to hide under a rock now.***


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